


Paradigm Shift

by dendraica



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Attempted Kidnapping, Consensual Sex, Cuddling, Emotional Support, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing a Bed, family dysfunction, major twin feels, mentions of slavery and brothels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 09:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica
Summary: The gang is heading back to Berk after leaving the Edge, but for Ruff and Tuff, that means their world is turning upside down. The Thorston Elders are to decide their futures, but what's in store is nothing either of the Twins want.When Ruff loses her chance to challenge their decision by taking a new set of Trials, Tuffnut steps in and attempts to win freedom for them both, with the help of a Berserker ally.It doesn't take Dagur long to realize the nightmare the Twins are facing is very real. In helping them, he forms a bond with Tuff that might just be all he's ever wanted.





	1. Homecoming

The Edge looked quiet, eerie, and somehow forlorn as it shrank in the distance behind them.

The group was flying south, towards Berk - the first home they had ever left. This was the final trip back, which added a finality that no-one seemed to have been truly prepared for - not even Snotlout, who’d just yesterday been bragging about all the awesome new weapons he was going to test at Gobber’s forge.

Rather than triumphant, Snotlout looked depressed the following morning - to the point he’d actually volunteered to help Fishlegs pull all the seed pods out of his herb garden. The twins hadn’t pulled any pranks or told any jokes - appearing to be exhausted.

Nobody seemed in a good mood; Astrid was pensive, and Hiccup had barely said a word, just keeping vigilant, should their journey home be interrupted by ambush.

It was a pipe dream that such a thing would happen. Every known threat had been faced and dealt with - at least as far as the Archipelago was concerned. Johann was gone, Krogan’s location was unknown, and both Dragon Eyes and the lenses had been destroyed.

Mostly, the youths were returning home because of Stoick.

Berk’s Chief had been gravely injured, though he was recovering at a rate that surprised even Gothi. Hiccup naturally wanted to be close to his father, and the Council had named him acting Chief until the day Stoick was too stubborn to be kept in bed.

Still, as eager as everyone was to reunite with their families, it strangely hurt to look at all the empty huts and buildings they’d left behind. There were years worth of memories here that couldn’t be so easily packed up.

For the fifth time, Snotlout turned around to watch the island recede.

“Anybody think it’s weird that we’re just leaving this place completely abandoned?” he couldn’t help but mention aloud. The other riders, lost in their thoughts, were jarred back to reality and glanced at each other.

“It’s not abandoned, Snotlout. At least it won’t be for too long. I’m sure we can find some kind of use for it - for materials, if not an outpost,” Astrid suggested. “But first we need to focus on making our marks back on Berk. Hiccup’s going to be busy with chiefing duties, and building a new house...”

She trailed off awkwardly, pushing past the moment and onto a new tract. “And I-I’ve got some new defense ideas to present to the Council. Fishlegs - I heard _you_ have some training with Gothi. She was rather impressed with your herbalist skills, and I hear she’s been looking for an apprentice.”

Fishlegs beamed, losing his doleful expression. He and Heather had mutually broken things off a while ago, but it was in many ways harder for him to leave the place where he’d found love. “Thanks Astrid. I hope Gothi and I can learn from each other - I’ve made a list of new medicinal herbs I think she should let me try growing.”

Nobody had noticed Snotlout’s multiple exasperated eyerolls, so he cut into their formation on Hookfang, forcing Stormfly and Meatlug to put a distance between themselves.

“Oh, blah, blah, blah - we know Berk’s ‘golden trio’ have got amazing careers ahead of them, so big whoop! I’m gonna be one of the best weapon testers Berk’s ever seen!”

“Uh, you’ll be the _only_ weapon tester Berk’s ever seen. Gobber made up that position literally just to give you something to do,” Fishlegs corrected.

“... You just can’t let me have anything nice, can you Fishface? Whatever. At least my job’s going to be an actual job and not whatever those two losers end up doing with their lives.”

Snotlout jabbed a thumb in the direction where at one point a Zippleback had been, but now contained empty air.

“Where are the Twins?” Astrid asked, slightly alarmed. Snotlout turned to see they were no longer flying next to him and frowned.  He shrugged at Astrid, and ahead of them, Hiccup glanced back and groaned.

“Oh, come on - let’s circle back. Maybe they forgot something.”*

It didn’t take long to find them. The Twins hadn’t gone all the way back to the Edge - rather they’d landed on a nearby forested sea stack.

Tuff appeared to be trying to talk some sense into his sister, Ruffnut... who was currently beating up a pine tree.

“RAAAAARGH! Those imbecilic, mung-sucking, shriveled up bladders full of worm piss!” she was screaming, flailing at the poor defenseless tree with her fists and sending it rebounding wildly, needles flying everywhere.

The others stopped and as a unit decided not to come much closer.

Tuff promptly stopped trying to sing lullabies to her and turned to greet them with a bright smile, raising his arms as a cautionary barrier.

“Uh, so, we all need to stay calm, give her some space - I’ve never actually seen her this mad. Wait, no, actually I have - this is just the first time it had nothing to do with me. Or you know, something I did, or thoughtlessly said...”

“Spit it out, Tuff. What’s going on?” Astrid asked, worriedly watching Ruffnut. She was now climbing the tree, still cursing at the top of her lungs and occasionally biting at the branches in her fury.

“Meh. It’s nothing, okay? We just have to deal with a family thing back on Berk. Some kind of huge intense meeting with our Elders, on our dad’s side, who are going to decide what we do with our lives. You know, where we end up working, who we marry, if we marry.” Tuff shrugged nonchalantly.

The others stared at him in shock. Fishlegs let out a nervous giggle. “Oh, is _that_ all?”

“Yeah, seriously, I agree. It’s so stupid and completely archaic. Exactly why we’ve been avoiding having it for years.”

“And now you can’t avoid it any more?” Astrid guessed. “Maybe it’s time to confront your family about it instead of running away.”

“Hey! We were totally going to confront it. Before being unable to avoid it, mind you. As soon as certain relatives involved were dead. Unfortunately for us, _some_ Vikings don’t seem to come into this world with period-appropriate expiration dates.”

“Tuffnut! Those are your Elders you're talking about!” Fishlegs scolded.

“And if you ever _met_ the ones he was talking about, you’d help me throw them off a cliff!” Ruff snapped, joining the others. She was attempting to finger-comb pine needles out of her hair. Snotlout ever so helpfully pointed at something lodged in one of her braids.

“Pine cone.”

She scowled, but fished it out and threw it carelessly over her shoulder.

“Tuff and I can handle this ourselves, thank you for your concern. We’ll let you know what the pompous old fart-bags decide after we have our stupid family discussion.”

Tuff gripped Ruff’s shoulders. “Careful what you call our patriarchal Elders, sister! Out here, even the wild maize has ears.” His words were purely dramatic more than anything, their sole purpose for making Ruff’s scowl turn into a fond smirk.

It only semi-worked. Ruff gently butted his shoulder with her own as she trudged back to mount Barf, but there was no smile on her face.

Tuffnut sighed worriedly, then turned to the others.

“Don’t tell her I said this, but I don’t know if we can handle this,” Tuff confided lowly. He brightened up. “But I do know you guys will totally be there for us if we can’t, and do your very best to listen and address our concerns, no matter what the circumstances. I mean, that’s what friends are for, am I right?”

Astrid, Hiccup and Fishlegs exchanged startled glances, then grinned widely and gave thumbs up, while Snotlout shrugged casually.

“Of course, yeah -“

“Sure thing, guys!”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Can we _go_ now?”

Snotlout's irritated question didn’t seem to faze Tuff any - he grinned back at his friends, returned the thumbs up, and headed back to mount his dragon's neck.

The flight back to Berk was long, but mind-numbingly uneventful after that. Everyone breathed a sigh of tired relief when they saw the stone viking markers that charted Berk’s territory.

The shore was surprisingly well lit for this time of night, and as they got closer smiles broke across the riders’ faces as they saw why.

Colorful banners, bright torches and waving arms of people they knew were waiting to welcome them home. Stoick and Gobber stood out among them, and Hiccup grinned, landing near them with Toothless first.

Astrid and Fishlegs peeled off, spotting their parents and families and calling back to them joyfully.

Spitelout’s voice could be heard calling above the cheering din. “Where’s my son? Don’t keep your mum waiting, boyo!”

Snotlout beamed. “Mom!” he called out in delight, then cleared his throat, glancing at the Twins. “I mean - Hello, Mother,” he said, regally setting Hookfang down in the square.

Only Ruff and Tuff remained in the sky, not seeing any faces upturned or arms beckoning for them.

They glanced at each other in silence for a moment, then wordlessly flew away from the hubbub of activity. They headed toward their home - a quiet and poorly lit house on the sloping hillside.

\----

Neither of them wanted to admit to the other that they were surprised that their relatives hadn’t shown up to welcome them. It had probably been Gran Shrewdspiel’s idea of a punishment. When she decided on something, nobody disobeyed.

Barf and Belch crooned sadly at them as they put their dragon into their stable. The Zippleback could tell their riders were upset and each head nuzzled their respective humans.

Ruffnut looked over her shoulder at the party on the shore and huffed. “So what if they didn’t show up? We should go anyway. Our friends would want us to.”

“You really wanna explain to everyone why our family isn’t with us?”

“No,” Ruffnut scowled. “We deserve to have some fun, though! I’m tired of being left out of everything just because the old bitch doesn’t like us or our mom!”

Tuff’s face flashed briefly with guilt and he turned toward Belch, slightly hiding behind his hair.

“Hey, I saw that thought! Don’t even think like that. Mom would box your ears.” Ruff pulled her brother around and put her hands on his shoulders. “They wouldn’t like us better if you weren’t with us. Okay?”

“But... but they only gave -”

“Tuff, she’s an old crazy lady who has been punishing Mom ever since she married into this family. So what if she only gave Mom one of everything she needed for two babies? It was just her own special way of being cruel and petty. Personally I don’t think either she or ‘Grandfather’ has a right to tell either of us what to do with our lives - since she’s so adamant we should never have existed in the first place!”

Despite the tough talk, Ruffnut’s eyes were wet. Tuffnut calmed, moving closer to hug her.

“Easy sis. It’ll be okay. Just because we have to go to a big scary stupid meeting, it doesn’t mean we have to do what they say. When have we ever?”

Ruff snickered into his shoulder. “... Remember when they locked us in the pit because we blew up part of the flour mill?”

Tuffnut couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, I was already scared of the dark. And that’s when we learned I was also scared of slugs. And snakes.”

Her snicker turned into a cackle. “So I just made a fire and we tried cooking some snails with yak butter I found in my pocket!”

“Those poor things. They died a buttery, delicious death.”

“Yeah. We’ve always made the best out of the worst, haven’t we?” Ruffnut seemed cheered now, compared at least to earlier. “As long as we have each other and Mom, we’ll be okay no matter what the old farts decide for us.”

Tuff grinned back at her and the two of them headbutted each other, clinking their helmets.

The door slamming open made both of them turn around, looking as wide-eyed and innocent as possible. Around here, that was a look you wanted to perfect.

However both twins relaxed with a smile when they recognized the tall and slightly muscular woman filling up the frame.

“What are you two doing out here? I’ve been standing in a dark house waiting to jump out at you and scream ‘surprise’. Very rude.”

“Sorry, Mom. Wait, surprise? What surprise?”

Madge Thorston grinned. “Well, that would give it away, wouldn’t it, boyo? Go on, get in there!”

She hugged Ruff around the neck, then Tuffnut, shoving both of them in ahead of her and into the kitchen. On the table was a monstrosity of cake and icing - she had tried to make it look like a Zippleback, though one of the heads was propped up by a wooden handle. It was melting around it, such that ‘Belch’ appeared to be swallowing the entire broomstick.

Technical difficulties aside, the twins were delighted.

“Mom, you’ve outdone yourself. How’d you manage to hide it from Gran?” Ruff asked, trying a bite.

“Oh, I didn’t. You know what she thinks of my cooking. Apparently she thought it was an extra punishment.”*

“Nonsense!” Tuffnut scoffed, scooping some icing up with a finger. He popped it into his mouth, savoring it. “Hmmm, cloves and nutmeg, honey, a dash of parsley... this is pretty unique frosting.”

Madge smiled broadly and hugged him. “Always so kind with your words. Now then, Chicken needs her special time, doesn’t she? She's been antsy in her coop.”

“Right! I promised to read her and the little ones a bedtime story. Thanks, Mom. You coming, Ruff?”

His sister shook her head, grinning fondly. “Nah. I’m gonna chill with Mom for a bit. You go ahead.”

When Tuff had disappeared around the corner, Ruff looked at Madge, and watched as the woman’s smile slipped away. “So, how bad is it exactly?”

“They will tell me nothing,” Madge sighed. “But that only worries me further. I cannot imagine you will be pleased with their choice, the way they’re acting.”

Ruffnut crossed her arms defiantly. “Well if we don’t like it, they can’t make us do anything. We’re dragon riders. We can leave at any time, go anywhere we want! And that includes you too - you can’t tell me you want to stay!”

“It’s not so terrible,” Madge sighed. “I can handle your father. All he does is drink and sit by that fire and rattle off the occasional insult.”

“Charming,” Ruff snorted, glancing toward the room with the main hearth. A faint snoring was her only answer. “I just can’t wait to meet the loser they picked out for me,” she groused sarcastically.

Madge smirked. “I pity the man if he turns out to be a fool, for you will give him no peace. You are not one to put up with what I have. I only wish you could have the partner you deserve. Are you sure you didn’t meet anyone?”

“Oh, I had a marriage proposal from Throk,” Ruff shrugged dismissively. “But he was way too intense for me. All ‘I will provide for you and kill for you!’“ She deepened her voice dramatically to mimic him. “Ha, I told him no thanks, I can kill just fine for myself and my brother! Also I think he might have honestly thought _he_ was going to be in charge.”

Madge chuckled and shook her head fondly. “I take it he had no interest in taking your brother along?”

“None whatsoever, at least not until it was completely unreasonable,” Ruff scoffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t get why nobody wants us both. I’d be the hatchet, Tuff would be the honey.”

Her mother raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“He’d calm me down long enough to stop swinging a _hatchet_ at my husband’s _face_. Probably even patch the poor sucker up afterwards.”

“Ruffnut,” sighed Madge. “You don’t have to take care of him your whole life. Tuffnut might seem a little...”

At this moment, Chicken ran past the doorway squawking, and Tuff followed - walking on his hands rather than his feet and squawking happily in answer. Approximately six yellow feather balls ran after him, cheeping.

“. . . eccentric, at times. But that boy knows his heart and I know that whether by dumb luck or sly craftiness, he’s going to find his own happiness and live a good life. _You_ are the one I worry for, Ruffnut. You need your own life and I doubt you planned anything for your future. I don’t want you to spend your entire time on Midgard making sure your brother is alright.”

“But he’s the only other person who makes _me_ happy! He understands me better than anyone else can! And even if I’d been born without him, I don’t want to marry anyone! Well, not right now. I haven’t fallen in love once, not even outside the Archipelago. Sure I think some people are cute, but _ugh_ \- no-one’s cute enough to be worth all of this!”

Ruff tugged on her braids, distressed. Her mother was quiet, listening - and she needed that perhaps more than she had realized.

“I know _Astrid_ can do this - she’s so ready to be married! She has literally the best husband she could have ever picked, and he picked her! Her parents and Elders are probably over the moon and - I’m happy for her, but I’m not - I can’t do this! I don’t want to _have_ to get married - can’t it just happen on its own!? Like, I could be flying on a dragon one day, minding my own business and then BAM, there’s my future husband! And by then, I’m _into_ it!”

“Oh, I understand that,” Madge smiled, somewhat wistfully. “Sometimes the most unexpected encounters are the ones you think about the longest.”

Ruff blinked slowly, now her turn to raise an eyebrow. “... do I even _want_ to know?”

Madge came back to herself abruptly. “Want to know what?” she asked blithely. Her daughter huffed, crossing her arms, and Madge artfully changed the subject.

“I bought you both new outfits for your meeting tomorrow afternoon. I advise you both to look - and smell - your best.”

“Why, what’s the point? Maybe if I look extra disgusting they won’t marry me off.” Ruff sniffed herself hopefully.

“They’ll be more open to suggestion and for you to plead your case if you _try_ to make a good impression. Talk to them first, and if not... well, there’s always the Trials.”

“Ha! Tuff and I can run circles around them if it comes to the Trials. We’ve been practicing on the Edge,” Ruff grinned proudly.

“Ruff, they’re not going to let you do it together,” Madge explained, worried. “If you want to force them to change their minds, you have to each go through them on your own. And before that, you’ve got to do a damn good job convincing them you’re serious about this.”

She gaped. “What? Since when do we have to be alone?! Wait, wait... Tuff and I will be at the _meeting_ together, won’t we?”  

Madge’s eyes were full of concern. “Not even that. You two aren’t being summoned for punishment, you’re being summoned to discuss your future. They’ll be seeing you separately. You can, however, ask someone of prestige to be with you - and even vouch for you. Did they not explain any of that in the scroll?”

Heart plummeting, Ruff turned away, going straight for the doorway where she’d last seen Tuffnut.

“Ruff,” Madge called, but didn’t go after her. She sighed as her daughter moved quickly, ducking out of the kitchen to the backyard, in search of her twin. Of course she should have figured Shrewdspiel and the others would keep this from them, so they had no time to prepare themselves.

Inwardly, Madge fumed at the unfairness, but she was the outlier in this family - having married into it. Putting her foot down was the opposite of effective - it was unfortunately their father who had the final say in whatever the Elders decided.

Hardsell hadn’t even stirred once from his seat before the fire, not even as Ruff raised her voice in distress, telling Tuff everything. Tuffnut was silent for a moment, then started talking gently, trying to calm her down. From the window, she could hear Ruff start to break down, though muffled as her brother hugged her tightly.

It utterly broke her heart to listen to.


	2. The Meeting

Tuffnut Thorston was not a man who was known for fixing things. Quite the opposite really; however if you wanted something blown up or flattened, he was probably your first choice. He likely wouldn’t even charge you a thing.

However, facts like that were not a deterrent, and right now he was on a mission.

Despite the fact his mother had taken pains to hold him still while she fixed and rebraided his hair, and had harangued him all night and early morning until he’d thoroughly washed himself in the bathhouse, Tuff didn’t care about getting dirty or ruining his clothing. The only thought on his mind was how his sister had been crying in the room next to his all night.

The family never cared much about him, but on poor Ruff they had piled all the expectations and rules and commitments. All because she was a girl - specifically a girl who was not Astrid Hofferson. Over the years the constant comparisons had led to some major resentment, but more importantly, it had crushed her self esteem. He had to fix it - and finding a speaker who knew what they were doing was the only option they had.

He ran to Fishlegs’ hut and dropped to his knees in the garden next to the boy - nearly overbalancing into the turned patch of mulch and Gronckle ‘fertilizer’ in the Ingermans’ yard.

“Tuffnut! Hey - wow, you look really nice!” Fishleg’s voice said.

Tuff couldn’t see the boy’s face - not behind the armload of rocks he was holding. Meatlug was noising rocks out of the field, picking out her favorites for supper and planting them in the burly arms of her human. “All ready for your big meeting?”

“Uh, sort of... not? I need your help. That is, both of us really need your help. We were caught unawares and we need someone to speak for us at our meeting thing. Um, individually, because apparently they will be separate meetings and my sister is totally going to freak out and throw something at Gran’s head if she has to go through it completely alone.”

“What? Why me? Typically you’d ask someone of prestige to speak for you at a meeting - they won’t allow just anyone in.”

“Yeah, prestige - you have loads of that, don’t you? Come on, man, I know you grew it on the Edge!” Tuff frantically scanned the surrounding raised beds.

Fishlegs blinked and then chuckled. “No, Tuff, ‘prestige’ isn’t a vegetable! It means someone who is highly respected in the community, specifically in a role of leadership. While I’m reasonably respected as a Dragon Rider and Ingerman, and for finding out the recipe for Gronckle Iron, I think your Elders are thinking more along the lines of royalty. Also I get nervous, I’d be terrible at speaking for both of you. Besides, I have all these rocks to plow out of the field so I can plant some healing herbs...”

He trailed off as he saw Tuff’s face fall into a despondent, heart-wrenching look. “Oh no, okay, really there are far better choices than me. What about Astrid? She’s going to be the wife of Hiccup, who’s everyone knows is going to be the future -”

“Whoa - nuh-uh - you are not suggesting I ask Astrid to speak on Ruffnut’s behalf in regards of who she should marry. Do _you_ see that going well?” Tuffnut deadpanned, crossing his arms.

“Uh... come to think of it, no. You could always try Hiccup? He would absolutely fit the criteria, if he can get away from his training.”

“Training?” Tuff blinked, thrown off. “What, he’s been back a day and the Chief is already holding his nose to the grindstone? I thought he was in bed!”

“Oh he is, and it’s more like the Maces and Talons board than a grindstone. He was in the Great Hall last I saw them. Hiccup has to play absolutely everyone who challenges him today. He’s been up since before dawn, poor guy. Gothi is presiding over it and I hear she swings a mean staff at anyone who tries to talk about anything but the pieces on the board. ”

“Ugh. Well, I gotta try. I have three hours until the meeting, and that should be enough time to create some kind of diversion, perhaps so Hiccup can sneak away-”

“Uhhh...” Fishlegs was doing that thing again, a high squeaking whimper which meant he had information Tuff wasn’t going to like.

“Spit it out,” he sighed in resignation. “Today already sucks, just bring it.”

“There’s a bit of a line to even get access to Hiccup, and from what I’ve heard the estimated waiting time is at least an hour. It’ll be sunset by the time you get to talk to him.”

“Oh come on!” Tuff threw his hands up and groaned.  “Okay, fine, I’ll have find a way to sneak in. Thanks, Fishy.”

Ignoring Fishlegs’ startled questions, Tuff took off running, sprinting through yards, scattering geese, and nearly taking out several laundry lines. A great deal of angry and completely idle threats followed him down the hill toward the Great Hall.

In front of which there was indeed quite a long line.

Grumbling, he puzzled for a moment, then realized there was a hole tunnelled into the west of the mountain to let out the smoke and steam from the kitchens. It would be a miserable crawl if anyone was cooking, but this was an emergency.

There was no time to waste. He ran for the vent, unable to help but chuckle deviously at his own resourcefulness.

\-----

The man seated currently before Hiccup got up - _finally_ \- after conceding defeat.

Dagur very nearly shoved him out of the way, but that was an old urge that he knew was best ignored. He grinned too widely as he approached the table and Hiccup stood, at last able to greet him. His brother looked exhausted but incredibly happy to see him.

“Hey, Dagur! What brings you here? It’s been months! You are definitely a sight for sore --”

Gothi tapped the ground with her staff meaningfully, and Hiccup sighed, sitting back down. “If you’re going to talk to me, we’d better start playing. Which side are you taking? Chief or Marauders?”

“I’ll take Marauders, huh? For old times sake.”

They set up the board, and Dagur felt the heaviness in his heart lift somewhat, just being here with his brother.

“Are you okay?” Hiccup asked within minutes of setting up the pieces, and Dagur felt his cheerful resolve all but dissipate.

“Yes. No. I’m awful. Things are awful, Hiccup.” There was a pregnant pause and he rallied, trying to change the subject. “But enough about me, how are you?” His voice ended on a high broken note and he grinned, showing all his teeth.

“Uh, well, I’m bored and not getting much sleep, but - Dagur, what’s - what’s wrong? Is everything okay with you and Mala?”

Dagur, attempting to appear calm, put his elbows on the table and tried not to bite his knuckles. “Oh it’s fine, it’s absolutely great. We’re just going to spend a little time... separated. Forever.”

“What!? Dagur, I’m - I’m so sorry! Can I ask what happened?” He moved a piece just as Gothi stepped forward, raising her staff. She sighed, almost disappointed, and remained watchful.

“You can ask all you want, brother, and I’d still have to tell you I don’t know! One minute we’re married, everything is complete bliss, and then a few months later she’s telling me that our tribes are too different to assimilate peacefully. Ha, I mean, can you believe - it’s like, of course they’re different! She knew that when she married me! I mean, come on!” Dagur moved a piece of his own, confronting Hiccup’s pawn.

“But did something happen? Was there a fight or misunderstanding -”

Dagur held up a hand. “Don’t worry your Hiccupy brain about how to fix it - I don’t think even the Twins can smooth this one out. But yes, there have been lots of misunderstandings. And though I really, really tried to be patient with everyone . . . I may have . . . sort of . . . slightly lost my temper a couple times.”

Hiccup’s expression demanded further explanation. Dagur huffed and crossed his arms. Gothi slammed her staff, it’s noise echoing through the hall. They played a few moves in silence, before Dagur dared to speak again.

Mostly because Gothi had closed her eyes and was snoring very faintly.

“I completely lost my cool two days after the wedding.  Believe it or not, most Berserker women don’t like being thrown over a complete stranger’s shoulder and carried off to be his wife,” he hissed, eyeing her warily.

His brother’s eyes widening in angry shock gave Dagur some small measure of comfort. “What? That’s ridiculous - of _course_ they wouldn’t! Oh Thor, please tell me nobody tried that with Heather!” Hiccup whispered back.

“Nope, she would have killed them before I could. The worst part of it all is that Mala was incensed - that the women on _my_ island were out of control! Haha, I mean, hello? They’re BERSERKERS! So naturally yes, some of the wife-seeking civilians on Caldera Cay will have suffered broken limbs, busted noses and the occasional snapped neck.”

Hiccup pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course,” he agreed weakly. Just to be on the safe side, he glanced at the drowsing Gothi and moved a piece.

“I tried to apologize, but It all went downhill from there, especially after I refused to admonish my people for standing up for themselves. So I started staying at Berserker Island for a couple weeks while she stayed at Caldera Cay with her own people. And I - like an idiot - still figured that somehow everything would be okay. Then she tells me she’s done some _thinking_ and while she’s still fond of me - _fond of me_ , can you believe --?!” Dagur gave a heartbroken sob and put a hand over his eyes. Hiccup blinked and reached over to pat his shoulder awkwardly.

“Yeah, I mean no, I can’t, uh -” he stammered as Gothi snorted awake. Hiccup moved one of his pieces, trying to ignore the immediate prodding of her staff.

“I would capture the moon itself and lay it at her feet, but she’s just... _fond_ of me now. And it’s not me, it’s my people. She’s dissolving the marriage. Apparently her culture doesn’t believe in marriage until Valhalla. Hiccup, the way she said it - so cold - the passion between us is _dead!_ I knew there were possibly going to be some issues, but not anything that could tear us apart!”

Gothi had come over to his side and knocked her staff against his chair, trying to make Dagur play his move. Startled, he took a breath and let it out slowly. Throwing a tiny woman across the Great Hall was a good way to get himself escorted off Berk. He didn’t want that - Dagur needed to be here, with his brother and all his friends.

Heather had actually insisted that it would do him good to visit Berk, if only to distract himself from his romantic woes. She was clearly worried about him. Also, she was right; he definitely needed a distraction at the very least.

There was a distant crash from the kitchens and a faint scream. Hiccup didn’t turn his head to look, not wanting to feel Gothi’s staff come down on his foot for the umpteenth time that morning. He merely rolled his eyes, attempting to focus on his strategy, but Dagur leaned over in his seat and tried to peer into the kitchen. “Uh, what was that?”

With malicious glee, Gothi raised her staff high over Dagur’s boot to reinforce _his_ focus, but suddenly froze.

She sniffed, unaware of how close she had _actually_ just come to being flung across the room, and followed her nose to the kitchen, stomach growling as she recognized the mouth-watering aroma of yak stew. Gobber had been making it for lunch, but someone had just taken the lid off the pot, letting the irresistible smell waft out.

Licking her lips, she walked as if in a trance toward the cauldron hanging over the kitchen fire, grabbing a bowl and ladle off the counter that someone had set just within her reach. The door swung shut behind her silently, revealing Tuff, who stealthily slid across the wooden bar to trap her in.

By now Hiccup and Dagur were both watching him, the former with a hint of fond exasperation. “Hey, Tuffnut,” he greeted casually.

“Boynut... why?” asked Dagur. Not that he wasn’t amused. Also, who knew the skinny blond cleaned up so nice?

Tuff put a finger to his lips, giving the Berserker a stern look and shaking his head. “Firstly, you’re both welcome. And if she asks later you did _not_ see me here.”

Dagur shrugged in agreement, figuring he may as well see what this was about. Hiccup straightened, taking a grateful chance to stretch his back and neck. “So why are you here?” he yawned.

“My sis and I are hurting bad, H. We need you to play hooky, sneak out, and be our ‘prestigious speaker’ at the Council of High Elders. Ruff’s got hers in two hours, and then it’s me, but she’s obviously way more in need of help impressing everybody.”

Dagur noticed Tuff had his hands clasped in a pleading expression, but it was much cuter than groveling; Boynut seemed to be giving Hiccup great big sad kitten eyes.

To his even greater amusement, his brother actually seemed like he was _caving_ to them.

“Ah, Tuff, you know I would, but I wish you had asked me a lot sooner so I could have talked to Dad about making time for it. I don’t want him to think I’m just trying to weasel out of what he asked me to do.”

“I respect that completely - and we would have asked sooner if we’d known. Our Elders changed the rules last night for challenging their decision.”

“What decision?” Dagur asked, curious.

“Um, _the_ decision. Our entire lives have been leading up to this - of what our Elders have planned for us. The biggest one being who my sister marries. She’s pretty freaked out about it and she said she was going to find her own speaker but I know what she’s actually doing is pacing her room, going through everything she’s going to say a hundred times, and stress-pulling her hair.”

“Aren’t you also worried about who they found for _you_ to marry, Boynut?” Dagur asked, leaning back in his chair.

Tuff blinked at him and started laughing, weirdly enough. “As if they’d ever bother with such a trivial -” He trailed off and turned back to Hiccup. “So, H, you’re obviously the best choice for both us, because you can keep a level head, be all _leadery_ and stuff, say nice things, and I’m sure Ruff would feel calmest with you by her side then say, Astrid.”

Hiccup looked guilty. “Tuff, I know how important this is to you both, but if you could find a way to postpone the meeting until just a little later, I could -“

He was interrupted by a small angry crash from the kitchen, likely made by the small angry woman trapped inside of it.

“Is there any way you can tell the Elders to hold both your meetings until sundown? Tell them I want to speak for you both, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Tuff looked stressed himself, tugging on his braids. “Nope, no can do. They _already_ rescheduled for this morning instead of tomorrow, and it’s not like we can skip it because if we’re late or don’t show up, it’s considered as good as agreeing with whatever they decide.”

Both his friends stared at him. “What?” asked Hiccup, sure he’d missed something.

“What do you mean what? They've always been like that. Gran says its to teach us a lesson about always being prepared, and well, we weren’t.”

“How can you be prepared when they keep changing rules and switching times around?!” Dagur interjected, looking almost offended. “That’s not just unfair, that’s insane! This is a huge decision. I mean, _marriage_. If it isn’t what either of you want, it could be a disaster! You should have every opportunity to refuse.”

Tuff looked flustered. “W-Well we do have one, the-the speaker thing, that’s why I’m here. Also, we can take the Trials if we don’t . . .  Elders, ha, you know - they’re supposed to be hard to please, right? Aren’t everybody’s?”

Dagur looked aghast and Hiccup frowned. “Tuff, there’s hard to please and then there’s impossible.” The brunet opened his mouth to say more on the subject, but Dagur plunged in ahead of him.

“They gave you less than _two_ _hours_ to get access to the only guy on your island qualified by their standards to speak in your favor, on a day when _everyone_ _knew_ he’d be stuck here at the request of his father. It sounds like these Elders are jerking both your chains and _cheating_ to get their way. If I was speaking for you I wouldn’t even speak, I’d just take them by their scrawny, lying _throats_ and ---”

Squeezing the imaginary neck of an imaginary Thorston elder, Dagur made a gesture that was quite gruesome if one pictured him holding a spoon.

Hiccup brightened. “Hey, Dagur, why _don’t_ you speak for the Twins? You’re a Berserker Chief and still technically a King, so you definitely qualify. You know what’s fair.”

“What, me?” he blinked startled.

Tuff glanced at Dagur, and then turned those big sad kitten gray eyes on _him_.

Oh, Thor, those were _very_ effective.

“Dagur, _please_ say yes, I’ll make it up to you later! Anything you want, I swear it -“ Tuffnut was interrupted by another furious bang from the kitchen.

“Well, if you’re sure you want _me_ , I guess I don’t really have anything more pressing to do at the moment,” Dagur shrugged. He brightened. “Do I get to punch anyone?”

Tuff looked pained. “As much as I would love to see that -”

“No, you may not,” Hiccup interrupted. “Dagur, no punching - however tempting. And if you’re going to go, I think you had better get a move on,” Hiccup said nervously, as the banging grew even more insistent, shaking the wooden door. “ _Now.”_

Hiccup waved at Spitelout, who was on the other side of the Great Hall. The man was waiting impassively at the doors to let people in to play against Hiccup. Spitelout had made no effort to release Gothi or throw Tuffnut out, instead looking vaguely amused at the entire scenario.  

The kitchen door banged open finally on a broken hinge, and Gothi stood glowering in the doorway. By then, Hiccup was sitting across from Nethooks Ingerman and completely focused on the match in front of him.

Dagur and Tuff had wisely bolted.

——

Ruffnut’s morning so far had been hell. For too long already cousin Agnut and her mother fussed over her hair and clothes, making her presentable.

Her brother had already gotten the treatment - he usually got up earlier than her to tend to his chickens. She hadn’t seen him since breakfast, when he’d promised to go find them each a speaker. Ruff’s meeting was first, because the Gods hated her, and she dreaded the idea of going in alone. At least Tuff would be waiting for her when she got out.

She practiced making horrible faces at Gran in the pond’s reflection and then stood up finally as her mother called her name. They were going to the place early it seemed, so Gran couldn’t accuse them of stalling. Mom had packed a lunch of blackberries, apples, goat cheese, boiled eggs, and bread and gave the basket to Ruff to carry, while Agnut, looking impatient, waited by the gate.

“Tuff knows where to go, right? So he doesn’t miss his?” she asked Madge anxiously. The older woman sighed and kissed her forehead.

“I told him and your brother assured me he knows. Don’t worry about him any more than yourself.”

Ruffnut just sighed. She was always going to worry about him, just like he’d always worry about her. The Thorstons were a tough stock, used to doing things on their own and their own way, and the girls who came from her mother’s family - the Knutts, had been marrying into the sprawling clan for two generations. The entire family seemed to have more sons and nephews than they knew what to do with, and nearly all of them were jerks.

She was likely going to be promised to some distant Ingerman-Jorgenson cousin who was related only by a previous marriage - and that was if she was lucky. Marrying an in-law wasn’t that uncommon throughout the Archipelago and the Thorston Elders were obsessed with making sure no bloodlines were crossed. The Elders bred their family as carefully as they bred their boars, though it didn’t exactly stop all the jokes about sixth toes and cleft palates. Remarks like that wouldn’t exist at all if the family made themselves likeable, but here they were.

She walked alongside Agnut, wondering what her cousin’s marriage with Leadfoot Thorston was like. She’d married him five years ago, and now had two young children of her own, Candlenut and Tallownut.

To all appearances, Agnut seemed happy enough. Leadfoot was a bit slow but he didn’t seem to have an ounce of cruelty in him. Ruffnut had never once seen him kick a dog or antagonize the boars, which was more than she could say for the other young men in the family. He was the quiet type who just did as he was told, no matter how hard the labor - a big and gentle man who enjoyed working.

If it came to being married into the family, Ruff supposed she wouldn’t mind the option of having someone like Leadfoot.

Though if the Elders tried putting her with someone as cruel as Longreach Thorston, already a widower at twenty-two under suspicious circumstances, she was _definitely_ taking the Trials. It was really for his own benefit; otherwise there might be yet _another ‘_ very unfortunate accident’ a few days after the wedding.

“You’ve been rather quiet, cousin,” Agnut said, finally giving up on setting a quicker pace. She paused to walk alongside Ruff, absently shooing geese and turkeys out of her way as they walked to the family meeting lodge. “Are you nervous?”

“Well, yeah. Weren’t you?” Ruff asked, raising an eyebrow. Agnut had always been the shining example Ruffnut was supposed to follow in terms of ladylike behavior. Her flawless existence had been a pain in Ruff’s ass for years, almost worse than Astrid’s. At the same time, that wasn’t exactly Agnut’s (or Astrid’s) fault - it wasn’t like she’d specifically petitioned for Gran to make Ruff feel completely inadequate.

Tuff was better at the home-making stuff like needlepoint, childcare and animal husbandry - Ruff’s strengths were more along the lines of hunting, finances, and defense.

She didn’t _need_ a husband, quite honestly. She rather doubted any Thorstons needed a wife to take care of things like she could. The thought of marrying at all still made her feel wrong - for reasons she couldn’t quite understand.

Agnut sighed, putting a hand on Ruff’s back to steer her around a mud puddle. “I was nervous, as anyone would be. Though I do not recall dragging my feet to the meeting as though I were about to be executed.”

“Gran doesn’t like me. At all. For all I know she probably _is_ going to execute me,” Ruff grumbled.

“Gran doesn’t like anyone but her own boys, because they came from her and she believes she is perfect,” Agnut observed tactfully. Ruffnut stared at her in amazement - that was the first time she’d ever heard her perfect cousin criticize the family matriarch.  “I find it easiest to go along with what she believes. As you will find, my dear, no boy’s mother is going to think you’re good enough. Don’t take it personally; that’s simply the way it is.”

She could have done without the ‘my dear’, but Agnut seemed to actually be trying to connect with her for once. It warmed her slightly.

Their names were shouted and ahead of them Ruff saw Agnut’s younger brother Walnut racing towards them. He was yelling something and Agnut pursed her lips, arms sternly akimbo. “Walnut, I’ve told you time and again _not_ to shout our business down the street.”

“Sorry, sis -” The boy panted, doubling over in front of them. “ - but they’re starting in fifteen minutes - the Elders have gathered and they’re wondering where you two are.“

“What?! They’re having meeting right now!?” Ruff butt in, eyes wide. “But they said at noon!”

“At noon or before,” Agnut supplied, helpfully.

“Okay, well I never heard that version, we were told to be there by noon!” Ruffnut growled heatedly. What if they changed the time on Tuff? What if he’d already missed his meeting? And all because he was trying to find a way out of this for them both.  “Walnut, you need to find my brother and tell him he better get his butt over there right now!”

Walnut, out of breath, still had the nerve to smile cheekily. “What’s it worth to you, cousin Ruff?” He pointedly side-eyed the food basket.

Ruff growled, in no mood for games. “Gee, I don’t know, how about the absence of an ass-kicking?”

“Jeez, _someone’s_ a nervous wreck,” Walnut teased, dodging nimbly out of reach as she swiped at him.

Agnut fished an apple and a hunk of bread and cheese out of the food basket, handing it to him.

“Go swiftly, and _no_ detours,” she told her little brother firmly.

He didn’t argue, taking the apple and running off. Ruff felt a twinge of guilt; normally she and Tuff got along just fine with members of their own family. This whole thing was awful and it had her on edge, snapping at everyone. She almost wished her and her twin really hadn’t taken the Induction Trials - it hardly felt like they were wanted with the way the Elders kept shuffling them around.

Agnut put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come along, he’ll find Tuffnut and we will get there on time.  It’s a good thing we started off already.”

Unable to hide her unease, Ruff nodded and followed along. She took an egg out of the basket and started peeling off the shell, deciding to eat as she walked. There was no sense in being miserable on an empty stomach.

\-----

Tuff glowered up at the barred doors, again pushing at them futilely. His first attempt had sent cobwebs and dust falling from the rafters and sent Dagur into a sneezing fit. The man was a few feet away, honking miserably into a kerchief and trying to cough it out.

“I really don’t get how they’ve let it get so bad. I mean, Ruff and I were only on the Edge for a couple years. Gran’s usually a neat freak, at least by Thorston standards.” He wiped a finger across the surface of the door, scowling as his fingertip came away black.

“You - _ha-a-choo_ \- sure this is the right place, Boynut?” Dagur sneezed again, wiping at his eyes.

“Well, yeah, I mean - come on. They wouldn’t tell me the wrong place after already changing times on us. There has to be at least the illusion of fairness, right?”

“Depends on their definition of fairness.” Dagur sniffed and put his weight against the doors, straining to push them in. Tuff stood back from him, unabashedly letting his eyes roam over the Berserker’s straining muscles. “She wouldn’t be marrying your sister off for money, now would she? Your dear old granny?”

“Who’d pay to marry Ruff? Not that she isn’t awesome, but come on - nobody ever bothers looking us over twice. We’re not attractive, just . . . available.”

Dagur peered at him over his shoulder, still giving it his all to push in the doors. “I don’t know, Boynut. You clean up pretty nice. I bet people are just too shy to ask -”

The rest of Dagur’s words trailed off into a yell as something snapped, flinging the doors plus one Berserker into the meeting hall. Irritated, Dagur got himself up and let Tuff help brush the gray dust off him. “Your Elders must not use this place very much.”

Tuff looked around at the half-burnt tapestries, many depicting a hulking Thorston Ancestor holding a boar and a sow beneath each arm. Boars were the family trademark. They bred them, hunted them, sold both hide and meat - as they always had since Berk was founded. “This place is a wreck. Wonder who set the fire this time because I know it wasn’t us.”

Something caught his eye on the table and he picked up the piece of parchment, scanning it.

“In case you are reading this,” he muttered. “The meeting has been moved to the lesser family lodge, and will start -”

Tuff paled, turned on his heel and grabbed Dagur’s arm. “We gotta go! Five minutes, this is not a drill, we have five minutes!”

“What?! Wait, so the meeting’s _not_ here and they left you a note inside a _barred_ building?!” Dagur demanded, stumbling after him. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Illusion of fairness,” Tuff repeated. Though this time, a cold fury Dagur had never heard underlied Tuff’s words.

Tuff’s demeanor wasn’t lighthearted this time - he was angry. He looked around quickly then let Dagur’s wrist go and stormed off - not toward the lodge but the nearest dragon-feeding station. Dagur followed after him.

“Boynut, are you sure you guys have to do this? If it were me, I’d tell those Elders where they can stuff their little ‘family meeting’. You’re both dragon-riders. You and your sister don’t have to play their games - you can go wherever you want!”

“Yeah, we can leave, but then we’ll never get to come back, or live in our father’s house. They’ll disown us. I mean, we’d be probably be fine, but this is our home. This is the only place we can ride our dragons and be together and happy. We have to play these games if we’re going to stay on Berk. But first we have to get there before it's too late.”

Tuff approached the trough of fish and rolled up the sleeves of his nice tunic before plunging his arms into the pile. After a moment he triumphantly pulled out a halibut. One of the other feeding dragons - a Hobblegrunt - lifted her head. Tuff whistled and coaxed sweetly, drawing her away from the feeding trough to come after him. Halibut was a favorite of her kind and she accepted both the fish and Tuff’s hand on her nose, churring softly.

Within a minute, Tuffnut had pulled himself up onto her back and reached out a hand for Dagur, who grinned and climbed on behind him. The new meeting place was on the far side of the island and they would have never beat the sundial on foot.

Luckily, it seemed the Elders were a bit behind the times on this one.

The Hobblegrunt landed before the meeting lodge, but Tuff’s heart leapt as he saw the doors already closing. He could just make out his sister’s panicked blue eyes, widening as they saw him jump off the dragon, starting to run towards her. “Wait, wait - it’s not - I have a speaker for Ruff!”

He kept running, hoping to at least make the gap but Dagur grabbed him by the back of his tunic as they slammed heavily, nearly catching his nose. Tuffnut yelped and recoiled, falling back into the Berserker’s arms and panting in confusion. “What?!” he asked forlornly. “But I - I was on time!”

“ _You_ are exactly on time. Congratulations,” came the muffled reply from the other side of the door. It sounded ridiculously smug. “Ruffnut’s meeting is right before yours. You can stay there and wait. Hers won’t be long.”

Tuff pulled away from Dagur and let loose a stream of invective at the door, railing against it hard enough to bruise himself. To add insult to injury, his angry efforts only shook the thick door a little.

Frowning, Dagur pulled him away by the bicep. “Don’t give them the satisfaction,” he murmured lowly. Tuffnut stopped his attempts and glared at the door, visibly trembling and on the edge of tears.

Abruptly he yanked away from Dagur’s hold and stalked over to the Hobblegrunt, standing close and petting her snout. She seemed to pick up on his distress and purred softly, nuzzling him.

“Thanks for trying to help,” Tuffnut said lowly, after a long moment. Still not facing his companion, he wiped a hand quickly across his eyes. “You don’t have to speak for me now, it’ll be pointless. You can just go if you want.”

“Nope. I’m not going anywhere,” the Berserker said firmly, crossing his arms. “Until I see that you two are okay.”

Tuff said nothing, stroking the dragon’s muzzle. When he did look over his shoulder at Dagur however, it was with a grateful smile.

All they could do now was wait.


	3. Decisions Made

The Thorston Elders were mainly four people, though there were actually six present at the table Ruffnut was led to. One was a representative from the Knut family - Elder Filbert. He smiled kindly at his grand-niece, though his eyes were a bit strained. It was small wonder why; the unfortunate man was seated next to Gran Shrewdspiel herself, already looking over Ruff’s state of dress with a critical eye.

Next to Shrewdspiel was seated her younger brother, Great-Uncle Horsemouth, and on the other side of Filbert was Great-Aunt Grinder - who never seemed to lose the smug grin on her face. Last but not least in horribleness was Grinder’s husband, Nostril. He was her second husband and at fifty years of age, the youngest man there.

He watched Ruffnut without blinking, and took a walnut from the bowl in front of him, putting it between his back teeth and cracking the shell by slamming a palm against his jaw. If that was supposed to be some kind of threat, Ruff was absolutely not intimidated. Not even in the slightest.

She crossed her ankles to hide her trembling knees and curtsied to each of them in turn - as gracefully as she could manage. She didn’t bat an eyelash when custom dictated her to incline her head to the sixth Elder at the table.

Great-Grandfather Ashes had been presiding over every case brought to the Thorston High Council for well over a hundred years. His wisdom was as indispensable as he was and there was absolutely no arguing with his final word.

The secret of his longevity was due to the fact that Grandfather Ashes had long ago been reduced to just his namesake, resting in a gleaming polished urn that took up the center seat. One could call it a form of ancestor worship, except the Elders acted more as though the urn was a sentient piece of crockery with opinions. (Unsurprisingly, opinions that mirrored and amplified their very own.)

Ruff hadn’t been born until years after the man died, but she wondered what he might think about how Shrewdspiel and the others were ‘representing’ him.

“Girl,” sighed Grinder, picking at her teeth with the edge of a fingernail. “Couldn’t you try a bit harder to look nicer? I would have thought you’d at least get some curves with all that extra feeding you must have gotten.”

Huh. And if she had gained any weight, Ruff had no doubts that the complaint would be reversed - that she had gotten fat and lost her nice figure. She straightened, trying to think of what to say, but Ruffnut was at a loss without Tuff here. This was where he’d normally butt in, say something flattering to Grinder to make her ease up.

Not this time - that joy was all hers to figure out. She would have to fake it and say something at least vaguely respectful. Ruff gulped, having no choice but to wing it, and tried to go for flattery.

“Oh, no, I’d never attempt to out-eat _you_ \--” Ruff winced as several insulted gasps told her that she had badly mixed up her words. “Uh, I mean, uh, outshine you! Heh, whoops.” In the corner, Agnut put a hand over her face.

“Hmph, as if you could do either one!” Grinder sniffed, folding her corpulent arms.

“Moving right along,” Shrewdspiel sighed, though Ruff noticed the old bat looked smug. Of course she did; Ruff was making herself look bad _for_ her. “Ruffnut Thorston, you have been summoned to learn who you are to the Clan and who you shall be. First of all, we have found you a husband.”

She paused and Ruff realized she was supposed to respond to that. “Do I get to meet him first?” she tried, but a cold look again indicated her answer was incorrect. Fuck, she was already in hot water, and it hadn’t even been a minute.

“I should hardly think so. He is travelling a great distance to the wedding, which will take place on your Uncle Boneyard’s private island out west. You shall meet him then, and depart to his village to begin your wifely duties and . . .” She broke off to frown at Ruffnut sharply. “Whatever is the matter with you, girl?”

Ruffnut was gaping in horror. “He’s not even from Berk!? Wait, you can’t just send me away! Who is he that he can’t even marry me right here in the Thorston Hall, where every single other Thorston has been married?”

“We invited him to do just that, you silly witch.” Nostril sniffed. “But he’s a busy man, a merchant - he can’t make time for frivolity.”

“Huh. But he can make time for a wife. What happened to his last one that he’s in such a hurry?” Ruff’s nervousness had disappeared in the face of her anger, but under their cold glares she was aware of just how alone she was. She reached up to grip her tooth necklace, thinking of Tuff desperately. “I don’t want to marry him if it means I have to leave, but thanks anyway.”

“You have no choice.”

Ruff’s anger flared. It was the only lifeline she had to hang on to. “I have a dragon, what makes you think I have no choice!?” she shot back, ignoring Agnut who was shaking her head in warning. “All I have to do is take the Trials and beat them, and you can tell your merchant friend where to kiss it.”

General shouts of anger and dismay followed it but Ruff crossed her arms, challenging their dark looks with her own.

“Hush,” Shrewdspiel said, but to the others rather than addressing Ruffnut. “Are any of you surprised? The child has been raised by my son’s no-good wife, of course she’s disrespectful and slovenly! It’s not her fault she’s turned out like this.”

Ruff bristled. “Our mother raised us just fine!”

Nostril seemed to catch on to the new game and faintly smirked. “Of course it isn’t,” he said, ignoring her outburst. His voice a parody of kindness. “She’s practically half-feral, isn’t she? Both her and her brother will amount to nothing if not for us.”

 _What were they doing? Why were they acting like she wasn’t there?_ She clutched her pendant, not liking this one bit.

“She might have even turned into a beauty if a better family had fostered her, instead of this poor drab little urchin. You know, I fear the merchant might actually feel insulted if we offer him what looks like a drowned ship rat.” Grinder said dismissively.

“Maybe we should try to lower our expectations. Marry her off to a sailor at the Northern Markets. They’re always looking for women, and it’s not like they’re picky,” put in Horsemouth.

Ruff’s eyes were stinging and she trembled harder, tooth digging into her palm.

Uncle Filbert coughed, but before he could say anything in her defense, Shrewdspiel held up a hand. “Wait. I think she wants to say something. What is it, dear?”

Swallowing hard, she gathered herself. “I want to take the Trials.”

The frowns on their faces gave Ruff some small measure of comfort. They hadn’t been expecting that; they’d wanted her to cave and cry at how much they’d all just hurt her. She’d always worried about her looks, about whether she looked pretty, and here were her Elders - tearing her to pieces over that sensitive subject. “Whatever you have planned for me is not going to work out and I refuse it.”

“Well. The little rat is a stubborn one it would seem,” Horsemouth sighed. “But I in good conscience cannot allow the dumb innocent creature to ruin her own life.”

“I’m not dumb!” Ruff shot back, nearly shrieking. Her eyes blurred and she wiped at them. They were getting to her, getting under her skin, destabilizing her completely - _she wanted her brother._ Tuff wouldn’t let them tear her down, he’d be able to distract them so she could get her bearings. A quick look at Agnut and Filbert showed that while both of them clearly wanted to help, they were too cowed to try it.

“Can you tell me why we should let you take the Trials?” Shrewdspiel asked, and the pity in her voice made Ruff’s skin crawl - it sounded so real. “This merchant is likely the best offer you will ever get. Who else would want you? Especially after your ridiculous vow with your twin - yes I heard of it. Nobody in the entire Archipelago is going to want both of you, let alone one. Quite honestly, we had to lie and exaggerate your beauty for him to agree to the merger. We’ll do what we can with cosmetics for the wedding, but after that you’ll likely have to wear some sort of veil.”

To her horror, Ruff let out a sob and covered her face.

Filbert stirred, uncomfortably, about to speak again, but Shrewdspiel shot him a quelling look. “For pity’s sake, give her a moment to collect herself, would you?” she said, as if _he’d_ been the one crushing her spirit.

“Poor thing,” sneered Nostril. “Her brother, I hear, was supposed to find a speaker. I wouldn’t have trusted him to find the ground with both hands.”

It was a mistake to say that. Ruffnut stopped crying abruptly, eyes wide. She looked up, furious. “My brother is smarter, kinder and braver than all of you put together! You were so afraid of him finding someone that you had to shorten the time you gave us!”

“Preposterous,” sniffed Grinder, though she kicked Nostril under the table. Her husband looked chagrined and went back to chomping  on his bowl of nuts.

“One would think a Dragon Rider who was accomplished would have their friends beating down the doors to speak for you. But your brother had to go find one. I wonder what that says about you,” Shrewdspiel remarked, attempting to salvage the upper hand. Ruff winced but rallied.

“It says that they’re busy with their own lives, and I don’t resent them for it!” She was on the defensive. Her brother would change the subject at this point, before any of them could speak. “What are you planning for my brother? Does he get a wife?” Ruff snapped, trying to throw them off.

“That’s not quite your business-” Shrewdspiel began, but Uncle Filbert spoke up, having had it with being silenced.

“Lass, your brother seems to be in a spot of trouble,” he said quickly. He was glared at but he refused to back down. “And he’s in it deep, I’m afraid.”  

“What? Impossible! He knows better than to get in deep trouble without me.”

“Well, er, he doesn’t gamble any does he? Perhaps with loaded dice, or any number of little tricks?”

“What! No, that’s our scam-artist cousin Gruffnut!” Ruff yelped. She paled, realizing suddenly what was going on. “Oh no.”

“Are you sure, dear? Because the debt collectors that petitioned the family made it very clear that the culprit introduced himself as one Tuffnut Thorston,” Shrewdspiel said, leaning back in her chair. “And we certainly couldn’t deny that the both of you have been out of our sight for a long stretch of time - long enough that we can’t vouch for his actions being honorable.”

“You know it wasn't Tuff! You absolutely know - there is no way that wasn’t Gruffnut! Who on earth would use their real name if they were scamming someone?!” Ruffnut tugged on her side braids, stressed out and heart pounding. This wasn’t just bad, this was entirely fucked.

“Well, your brother never did seem the smart type,” sighed Grinder. She too leaned back, again with that horrible smugness. “Either way, I’m sure if you marry the merchant, it’ll gain the family a decent bride price. Certainly enough to pay off all the money your brother owes to those he cheated.”

“He didn’t cheat! What - what are you - what do the debt collectors want exactly?”

“Well, girl, they want their money back of course!” Horsemouth chuckled. “And if your brother can’t come up with the full sum, they’re willing to sell him on the market at the Whispering Shores.”

“No! You know it was Gruffnut!” she gritted out, but her breath was coming raggedly now and  her vision was beginning to feel spotty. “It was all Gruffnut, my brother is innocent, you can’t just give him over to be sold!”

“Perhaps he is, but can you prove it?” Shrewdspiel asked, folding her hands. “What evidence do you have, really, that it wasn’t your brother - that we can present to these collectors? After all, you’re his sister. You would lie for him, would you not? And his friends can’t be relied on either - they’d say anything to get him out of trouble, wouldn't they? Not even Stoick’s son can swing this in your favor, given the number of times he’s lied and gone behind his own father’s back - no, I’m afraid his word won’t be enough proof for anyone.”

“I’ll capture Gruffnut myself and bring him here! I can make him talk, trust me!”

“Ahhh, you’ll threaten a confession out of him, will you? Sorry, my dear, that won’t suffice either. The best thing I can think of for you to do is to marry. That merchant did offer quite a bit for a bride he hasn’t seen yet. It would certainly cover your brother’s debts, then we can find him a nice job as a fish-cleaner down by the docks.”

“F-Fish cleaner?”

“Well look how he nearly embarrassed the family! A fish-cleaner would be the best he could hope for, unless of course he simply takes the Trials to better his position. He’ll have that option, which is more than he’ll have if we have to turn him over. Isn’t it?” Shrewdspiel was grinning horribly and Ruff shakily let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

_Surely, there was another way --_

“If he’s lucky, they might sell him to a farm to get stones out of the fields. That’s hard labor, but it’s not a death sentence like slaving away in a limestone mine - oh, he wouldn’t last there a day. Men get crushed to death constantly by collapsing tunnels, from what I hear,” Grinder remarked casually.

“Or he could end up in a brothel,” Nostril shrugged. “He’s an odd one, he might even _like_ that, until disease finishes him off.”

Ruff snarled but before she could pick up anything to throw at his head, Shrewdspiel coughed sharply to get her attention. “Ruffnut, I think you fail to see the bigger picture. We don’t _have_ to pay off your brother’s debts with any portion of your bride price. We could keep it all and let them take him in addition. Instead, we are giving you the chance to protect him.. Do you understand the generosity of this offer?”

Stunned, she took another shaky deep breath and then slowly nodded. She felt sick and reached out for anything to brace against, finding a rickety chair. “What . . . what do you want me to do? Do I - do I have to sign something or . . .?”

Ruff, bowed her head, missing the triumphant smiles and the one guilty pained sigh that were aimed at her across the table. She missed Agnut’s expression of  sorrow and guilty shock, occasionally shooting reproachful looks at the Elders when they weren’t looking at her.

“Have a seat, dear. Now that you appear to be seeing reason, we can go over the details of our agreement,” Shrewdspiel said, and this time her voice seemed to carry true kindness.

Ruffnut sat down heavily, hands folded in her lap, defeated.

\---------

A soft spring rain was pouring down, wetting the wooden roof and pillars of the meeting lodge’s front porch. The Hobblegrunt had taken off, leaving both men under the meager shelter.

Dagur had waited with Tuff in anxious silence. Normally talkative, the blond trickster had held himself almost eerily still, staring at the doors intently.

For his part, Dagur had only stepped in once - when Tuffnut had gone from keeping quiet vigil to panicked shallow breathing, clutching his tooth pendant so hard it marked his palm.

“Easy, easy, sit down -” The Berserker made Tuff sit with his back against a pillar and pushed his shoulders back gently. “Deep breaths. Shoulders back, chest out, open up your lungs. I’ll do it with you - just match my breathing.”

He obeyed, eyes wide and all but spilling over. Dagur got him breathing slowly and deeply in a short time, paying no mind to any tears that fell free or the way Tuff’s hands were shaking, even when held tightly in Dagur’s larger ones. The fact he was in this state even before the meeting said plenty about the Twins’ Elders.

Uneasily, Dagur wondered if it had anything to do with what his sister might have been experiencing at that same moment. He’d heard about twin bonds, but this was weird . . . kind of sweet, but weird. He and Heather had a strong bond, but it wasn’t nearly the same with these two.

He glared at the door impatiently, sighed, and fished a packet of elk jerky out of his belt, pulling strips apart and handing one to Tuff. The boy blinked up at him, startled, but took it and started eating slowly.

"This is good," Tuff said after a moment, and Dagur was relieved to see him coming around. He'd only ever seen Tuffnut smiling, joking, trying to make him laugh - such that it distinctly hurt to see him this upset. "Did you make it yourself?"

"Well, yeah. I usually make jerky from what I hunt." That's right, he'd hunted the deer himself. Nobody could call him 'dainty' for cooking what he himself had brought down, like the amazing, strong warrior that he was -

"You seasoned this perfectly," Tuff went on. "A bit of sweetness, bit of salt - and I bet you soaked it in milk too so it wasn't as gamey. Is that juniper berry I detect?"

Dagur stared at him for a long moment. "You guessed all that from one bite?"

"I like taste-testing free food. It's one of my many gifts." Tuffnut graced him with a smirk and took another bite. "You're an awesome cook."

He stammered at that for a while, vaguely horrified and yet hugely flattered. "Mala never liked my cooking," he blurted, rubbing at the back of his neck. His face felt red. Was his face red? "She . . . she thought it was woman's work." And she'd said she wasn't surprised Amos had called him dainty and bullied him if he was doing such womanly things as cooking.

It had been an offhand comment, Mala hadn't been trying to hurt him - but it had stung deeply.

"Meh. I'm familiar with that whole mindset," Tuff sighed. "I don't buy it, the whole 'woman's work is lame' deal. Women are always busy, usually with work men couldn’t do if they tried. And then there’s ‘man’s work’ which every woman I know can do better than every man I know.”

“I know, right?!” Dagur exclaimed, perking up a little. “What even is ‘man’s work’?”

“I don’t know,” Tuff shrugged, smirking craftily. “Right now, I'm working on some free deliciously mind-blowing jerky, that someone else had to make which I technically did nothing to earn. Is  _that_  considered man's work?"

Dagur gave a surprised burst of laughter. The sound of his mirth brought a smile to Tuff's face, that slowly spread ear to ear.

"I'm just saying. I learned how to sew and cook and embroider, and I'm glad I know, because not only is it a totally awesome art form - it’s useful. I'm never going to find a wife and Ruff's no longer allowed to do any mending for me."

He snorted. "She's not? Why's that?"

"Because the last time my pants ended up in her chore pile, she sewed the legs shut," the trickster sighed, prompting Dagur into another fit of laughter. "It was so bad, I couldn't tell whether she'd done it on purpose or if she was actually trying to repair the holes."

Tuff's grin stayed in place as he finished the jerky, licking the seasoning off his fingers. Dagur's laughter wound down and he patted his pockets, hoping to find a bit more. His saddlebag was in the stables with Sleuther, which had most of his food. Had he known they were going to be stuck here, he would have brought some more.

The twin noticed him looking and sat up. "Hey, one good share deserves another. I have some food stashed away."

Tuffnut opened his vest, taking out several paper-wrapped pouches and laying them down. He opened one and offered it to Dagur to reveal wedges of aged yak cheese. The other parcels contained figs, nuts and seed kernels, salted boar bacon, dried sardines, an eel-tart, a piece of honeycomb, and a chunk of unleavened flat bread.

Dagur knelt curiously, trying to figure out where the hell Tuff had stashed all of his snacks. He was scrawny enough that all that extra baggage should have made his clothing bulky.

“Are you usually a walking pantry?” he asked, a little lost, though impressed.

Tuff put the food in between them, opening the paper up so Dagur could see what was offered. "The Thorston Clan is one of the richest clans on Berk, but lately our personal store of food's gotten kind of lean. We always got at least something from the family each winter, but they're saying it's going to be bad this year, which usually means we'll be getting more excuses than potatoes and boar meat. So Ruff and I have been foraging all summer to make sure Mom gets a pantry boost. It feels good to have food security and she knows some good places to hide it. I usually just carry my own stash around with me and it turns out for emergencies like these."

Dagur reached over and lifted a corner of the vest, curiosity overriding his manners. Tuff made no effort to bat his hand away and showed him the stitch work he'd done to line the vest with cunningly hidden pockets, made of black fabric so the stitches didn't even show. "You can fit all that food into these pockets? And nobody would ever suspect - It doesn't look like anything! That's completely amazing!"

It was Tuff's turn to get red-faced. "Heh, nah. It's no big deal  . . . though truthfully, there's more in here than just food." He reached in and began to pull yet more items out of his vest.

What? How many pockets did Tuff even have? How deep were they?

There was a lump of strange black resin in wax paper, a couple pieces of well polished sea glass, pheasant feathers, seashells, a leather pouch full of foreign coins and buttons, a needle and thread - it seemed never-ending.

“Both of us should eat if we're going to," Tuff was saying distractedly, still not quite looking at Dagur. "If we go in there as hungry as we are, I’m certainly going to throw up and you’re usually cranky on an empty stomach. You might actually punch or possibly strangle an Elder. Which, while hilarious, isn’t going to help my sister any.” Tuff appeared to be searching for something and he sighed with relief when he located it.

The thing in his hand was a small figurine carved out of black obsidian. Dagur recognized the features of Loki in the carving and watched Tuff close his eyes, cupping both hands around it for a long moment. He blinked them open afterwards and looked at Dagur with a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

Without explanation, the figure disappeared back into a vest pocket along with a handful of figs and cheese - an impromptu offering. The collection of objects, except for the food, disappeared back into the vest.  

“Eat whatever you want,” Tuff offered again, and nudged the boar bacon towards Dagur, even though the man had been very careful not to eyeball it. Dagur surprised even himself with how quickly he snapped it up. He couldn’t recall eating very much since Mala had cast him off. The bacon actually made him feel better, as did everything else Tuff handed to him.

There was a separate good feeling too, that of being taken care of by a friend. Heather wasn't the type to coddle, though she had been worried. Tuffnut however seemed to be going out of his way to spoil Dagur, handing him the choicest bits from each 'dish'. The Berserker silently made sure Tuff was feeding himself just as well, ready to protest if he was going without. After a short time, both men slowed their meal and then made themselves more comfortable, feeling sated and refreshed.

Amazingly there was food still left over for later - at least another full meal. Dagur had been told stories when he was little, of bottomless food satchels gifted by the gods, and blankets that magic words could make a full banquet appear on. This felt just a bit like he was in one of those tales.

“Well, I feel like I can actually think now,” Tuffnut sighed after they were finished, leaning back. He still looked exhausted, but more bright-eyed and determined than he had minutes ago. He leaned forward, reaching to press a hand over Dagur’s heart. “You feeling any better in here? They say good food can help heal a wound made by love.”

Dagur wasn’t one to spook easily. Obviously Tuff had overheard him talking to Hiccup while setting his trap for Gothi. It was the fact the twin had cared to _listen_ that sent heat flushing across the Berserker’s cheekbones. Also, it had sounded almost poetic, the way he had said it.

“Well, I - um, a little bit. Maybe. Enough that I’m glad to be here on Berk with you guys,” Dagur said honestly, managing a crooked smile. Tuff returned it.

Before Dagur could ask anything more about the intriguingly hidden pockets, most pointedly whether Tuff would be willing to sew him some, the door behind them unbarred noisily. The remaining food vanished back into Tuff’s vest with astonishing speed, and he stood up quickly.

Tuff’s expression was serious and cold - a stark contrast to the friendly warmth he’d shown to Dagur. There wasn’t even a hint of mischief in the boy’s eyes to soften his glower.

 _So this is what Boynut looks like when he’s seriously pissed off_.

It was intriguing, definitely distracting - Heather had told him to get nice and distracted, hadn’t she?

“We’re ready for you now, boyo,” the one holding the door open simpered. He was a scrawny fellow with jowls and an expression that made Dagur want to stuff him headfirst into a barrel of live hagfish.

“Where’s my sister?” Tuff asked, standing up straight. His hands were trembling and Dagur moved forward a little to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

The man at the door glanced at Dagur nervously, likely wondering why he was there, before answering.

“Well she was so eager to run home and tell the news to your mum that she left with Agnut out the back gate. You can catch up with her I’m sure,” the man shrugged.

But then Tuff would miss his chance at this meeting, wouldn't he? Dagur caught onto the ruse, but he didn't need to warn Tuffnut.

The young man shook his head. “Thank you for telling me, Uncle Horsemouth. I’ll hear the news from her later, I’m sure. This is my speaker, Chief Dagur of the Berserkers, also his Royal Highness of Caldera Cay.”

Well, _former_ Royal Highness, but the Elders didn’t strictly have to know that part.

Dagur did his best to look regally imposing, crossing his arms over his armor. Mala had instilled in him a need to have polished armor and a shaven face when he first moved in with her, but since they’d separated, he had grown back his scruffy beard and gotten some new dents in the old chestplate. He was glad for it, the effect made him look older - more confident and experienced.

Horsemouth looked satisfyingly gobsmacked.

“Ohhh, oh! Ch-Chief, I mean, King Dagur! Well, uhh, I had no idea we would be hosting royalty today, if you would perhaps wait out here just a few moments while we tidy up -” He reached out a bony arm and tried to pull Tuff inside.

Alone.

Again, trying to wiggle like a worm out of honoring their already impossible customs. There were words for people like that.

The Berserker barely contained his temper, but instead of flying into a rage, he drew himself up and reached out to widen the door, easily overcoming the skinny old fart's attempts to keep it narrow.

“I’m not here to inspect your shabby quarters or comment on whatever tacky decor you chose for this . . . completely unimpressive structure you call a meeting lodge. I’ve been asked to speak for my friends - both of them. You will not shut the door in my face a second time.” His voice was cold and aloof, his posture excellent - Dagur looked almost as menacing as Viggo Grimborn.

“Y-Yes, I mean, no - of course not, y-your Highness!” The man went from putting all his weight against the door to holding it wide for him, nearly flattening himself between the wall and the heavy oak door. Dagur made sure to shove the door even further against the wall as he passed, eliciting a pained squeak.

Wordlessly, Tuff walked in beside him. A sideways glance and a quick smile was all they had time to exchange before they were standing before the High Council. The Elders looked startled to see them.

“Well,” Shrewdspiel began, recovering first as she regarded Dagur. “Your Highness, what an unmitigated honor. We are undeserving of your presence here.”

“Some of you are, yes,” Dagur sighed, as if bored. “Shall we proceed?”

Shrewdspiel's jaw dropped a little, and she blinked rapidly as though reeling from a slap. “Of course. Please sit if you wish.” She cleared her throat, lips curled into a rictus smile. “Tuffnut Thorston, we’ve thought long and hard about your future position in the family, and we’ve decided your suitably gifted in  -”

“Don’t care. I choose the Trials.”

“ . . . you haven’t even heard what we have planned?” The older woman stammered, at a complete loss.

“What you have planned for me can’t be half as bad as what you just planned for Ruffnut. So I’m taking the Trials. If I fail, you get your way with both of us - whatever it is. If I win, we get the option of keeping all the rights and benefits afforded to us as full Thorstons, and having free will to live under the common laws of Berk, and to accompany his heir apparent - as dragon-riders, bodyguards, and professional explosion experts.”

The Elders blinked, silent for a moment. Uncle Filbert’s eyes lit up and he dragged over a tome, flipping through the pages.

“And what say you, King Dagur?” Grinder asked, mopping her sweating brow. “Do you think this young man is worthy of taking the Trials?”

“Worthy?” Dagur scoffed. “I would say overqualified. By all means, let him do as he wishes and take the Trials. I assume they will be carried out in perfect fairness? I absolutely loathe cheaters. In fact, reminder to self - have a guillotine set up in the village square to discourage it in my kingdom.”

Tuff stared at him, face flushing. Dagur wondered if he needed to tone it down a bit.

On the other hand, the Elders looked like they all needed to make a frantic dash for the outhouse. So that was something at least.

“Of course we wouldn’t cheat!” scoffed Shrewdspiel, as usual the first to recover from anything. “However, we’ll have to carefully go over the rules and make sure we’re not breaking tradition - the Trials have only ever been on behalf of the person taking them, not for the benefit of anyone else.”

Filbert made an exclamation, finding what he was looking for in the book. “No, no, actually it says right here in the New Laws of Featherpen - in the case of siblings, one who wins the Trials may allow the other to share in the prize,  if the winner so chooses.”   

Dagur glowered at Shrewdspiel, who drew herself up with a nervous laugh. “Oh of course, I almost completely forgot that tiny little passage -”

“Really? It goes on for about eleven pages,” Filbert said, almost maliciously cheerful.

“But we’ve already decided for Ruffnut! She agreed to it, and revoked her right to take the Trials,” Grinder argued. “What’s done is done. Find peace with your own sister’s decision - you cannot change it just because you don’t like it.”

Tuff gripped the top of the wooden chair so hard his knuckles turned white. “Hey, Grandma? When we were both born and you only gave Mom one blanket, one spoon, one cradle - for two babes - what was it you said to her? I was told, and I want to see if you remember it correctly.”

Dagur glanced at him. For just a moment, Tuff’s voice had gone a bit uneven, but his eyes were steely and cold now. Shrewdspiel pressed her lips into a thin line. “You must understand, you were both very small and weak, and it was a difficult birth.”

“What did you say to her? As the reason you only gave her enough for one baby?”

“. . . I said to her that she might only end up with one anyhow.” The words came out of her mouth with difficulty, but her tone matched his in coolness.

Tuffnut nodded. “And what else did you say?”

She blinked back, emotionless. “That I prayed it would be the little girl.”

Dagur drew in his breath sharply, but otherwise didn’t react. What the hell? Why would she - why would anyone say that about their grandkid? Even if she didn't like them _now_ , they'd been newborns _then_ \- there was no reason to be so cruel than for the sake of being cruel.

Incensed and struggling not to lose his temper, he clasped his hands behind his back tightly, though he was curious where Tuffnut was going with this.

“Right. Well, since we were both worth only one life to you even then, I think it’s fair you continue to treat us the same. Count us both as one. That means you can’t make a decision for Ruff - even if she agrees to it - without both of us consenting. And I don’t consent to whatever you’re making her do, because I know it’s bad.”

“Preposterous, how on earth could you assume we’d -”

“Someone who nonchalantly hopes for a newborn baby to die shouldn’t get to decide their future. That sounds pretty insane. So I’m taking the Trials. I’m taking them for both of us, and I’ll complete them. Then Ruff and I will choose our own path and you no longer have to worry about what to do with us. Sound fair?”

“This is ridiculous!” Nostril snapped, shoving aside his bowl of nuts. “Boy, you’re an idiot. For all you know we were planning to fashion you your own hut and land, find you a bride - and you’re throwing it away on a mere notion that we’ve wronged you!”

“I don’t care if you were planning to give me my own chicken farm by the seashore - which would be admittedly awesome. I’m still not going to take it. My sister is unhappy. I can feel it.  I can’t be happy while she’s not. I demand my right to take the Trials. This is the third time I have asked, and you’re out of reasons to refuse me.”

Shrewdspiel and the others looked at each other, then at the polished urn. “We’ll take a vote. If necessary, Grandfather Ashes will cast a vote as well. All in favor of the boy’s request to take the Trials?”

She did not raise her hand, but Filbert did. Casting nervous glances at Dagur, who was glaring them down, Nostril and Horsemouth did as well, the former elbowing his wife until Grinder huffed and raised her arm sullenly. Shrewdspiel grimaced. “Well, it looks like we have some Trials to prepare,” she said between clenched teeth as she gave incredulous looks to the other three. They shrugged sheepishly, looking from her to Dagur, clearly the more menacing looking out of all of them.

Dagur had spent sometime reading the expressions of those close to him; deciphering who was plotting, who was content with things as they were. When he'd ruled Berserker Island it had become imperative for his safety to glean out who he could trust.

Right now, the Elder's expressions were very telling. Grinder, Nostril and Horsemouth could read the writing on the wall. They knew if they went against the wishes of a King, let alone the Chief of a tribe that was now strong allies with Berk, it would only lead to trouble for them.

Shrewdspiel sighed, apparently figuring that one out for herself. Smart lady.

“You will have three Trials, Tuffnut Thorston. The first will be a Trial by Fire. The second, Trial by Beast. The third will be Trial by Blood. All will be excruciatingly difficult and you may be grievously injured in the undertaking. Do you accept those risks?”

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Tuff shrugged, looking unconcerned. Which was the opposite of what Dagur was feeling.

“Nothing he can die from, I’m sure?” Dagur challenged, crossing his arms.

“Of course not, we’re not aiming to kill anyone here. She’s just saying it’s possible he could be hurt,” Grinder supplied. “You know. Bad enough to not be able to complete the other two Trials.”

Right. Dagur had just about enough of their company and he was sure Tuffnut - who’d fallen silent - was of the same mind. “When will these Trials take place?”

“The first one shall be tonight. The second one, if he passes the first, shall take place tomorrow night. And so on, giving some hours of rest in between. At any time, should he sustain injury or become completely exhausted, he can ask to withdraw from the entire endeavor,” the Thorston matriarch concluded. “I believe that is all for today. You will meet us in this hall after sundown. Agreed?”

Tuff nodded. He looked a little pale, Dagur thought. He had misgivings about this whole Trial thing, but surely they could figure this out. “If I may ask, to satisfy a King’s curiosity, what does the Trial of Fire entail?”

“That’s private -” started Nostril, but he wilted immediately as Dagur turned his fiercest glare on him. “Er, your majesty. Dreadfully sorry, I personally wish it wasn’t, but alas I don't make the rules.”  

Filbert turned a page, with the satisfaction of a cat who’d just stolen all the cream. “First of all, the speaker is absolutely allowed to ask for details of the Trial to help their charge prepare themselves. The speaker may also be present at each Trial to ensure it goes fairly and to bear witness that it was completed. And lastly, the Trial of Fire usually consists of a red hot bar of iron pulled from the forge.” His face fell slightly, reading it. “Oh. Ah. The one taking the Trial must grab the bar, walk ten paces with the hot iron in their hand and plunge it into a pot full of cold water.”

Dagur drew in a breath to start lambasting them on what a _stupidly_ _dangerous_ idea for a Trial that was, but Tuff straightened up. “Sounds great. I always did say I wanted some serious burns. Tonight at sundown it is.”

“Uh, Boynut -” Dagur started. He’d seen what hot iron could do to a man’s skin.

“Don’t worry, I can take the pain. You’ve seen it. So what are the ways I’m allowed to prepare for this Trial?”

Filbert came to the rescue once again. “Well, you may fashion a glove out of any material you want. Keep in mind you only have until sundown and that time shall not change. If the Elders are not there to administer the Trials by the appointed time, they automatically forfeit.”

Shrewdspiel snarled and looked over his shoulder. “Where are you finding all this?!”

“New Laws of Featherpen, where else? He was the only sane Elder out of the lot of you,” Filbert retorted, sounding like a man who’d finally had enough.

“Wait, I get to make a glove out of anything I want?” Tuff asked.

“Except dragon skin,” Grinder put in hurriedly. Everyone looked at her with at least a hint of distaste. “Oh come off your high Nadders. It’s not like there’s not a roll or two still floating around in deep storage. We’ve been at war with dragons for centuries!”

"There's nothing in the book that says he can't wear a dragon skin glove," Filbert argued.

"It would be unfair!"

"On what principle? The unfairness that he might win the Trial by cleverness, rather than surviving agonizing injury? In any case, it's not like dragon hide is just lying around free to use, and if it is in 'deep storage', then it had better stay there for no-one to find. As of five years ago, we were supposed to get rid of anything made from a dragon killed in battle - that's what the Chief ordered all of us to do," Filbert argued.

“Either way," Tuff said, before Grinder could argue. "I would still never use dragon skin, Auntie Grinder. I couldn't bear to touch it, or even see it. As important as my sister's happiness is to me, I would never betray the trust of our dragons."

Dagur felt strangely proud of him.

They were at last permitted to leave and if Tuff walked a bit closer to Dagur than he had coming in, the latter didn’t mention it. He could see Tuffnut trembling, now that the ordeal was over . . . and unfortunately also just beginning.

“Ruff had better be okay,” he muttered tensely.

The Berserker looked at him and slung a friendly arm across Tuff’s shoulders. “Why don’t we go see how she is? I bet she could use some of your magical food stash.” He prodded Tuff’s vest curiously, making the other boy stammer and squirm. He didn’t pull away from Dagur's touches like Hiccup usually did though.

Which was interesting.


	4. Trial by Fire

Ruff heard the knock at her door and slid down further beneath the covers, even though she knew who was on the other side. She had wanted to see her brother badly since she’d arrived home, but now that he was here, Ruff found herself too ill to stand and unlock the door.

And she was crying again. Wonderful.

“What?” she asked, unable to help snapping.

There was a pause. “Sis? You okay?”

No, she was not fucking okay. She’d just signed away her life because of stupid Gruffnut. And because Tuff had idolized the jerk and made himself look similar enough that they could be confused for each other on sight. .

And because like an _idiot_ , she’d worried about Tuff instead of herself - like usual.

The anger and harsh words boiled in her chest, begging to be spat out. She curled into a tighter ball, muffling herself. If Tuffnut came into her room, she was going to go off on him and she didn’t want to. It wasn’t his fault - not directly.

“Go away!” she shouted, then clamped both hands over her mouth and face so she wouldn't say any more.

“Come on, it’s going to be okay. We can fix this.”

No, they couldn’t. Tuffnut had obviously missed his meeting - Walnut had come back to them after she and Agnut left the meeting hall, looking out of breath and sheepish. He swore up and down he’d taken no detours, but he still hadn’t found her brother anywhere. Tuff’s meeting was supposed to have been right after hers. Likely he thought he still had hours.

She closed her eyes and muffled herself from the world with her blanket, ignoring his knocks and repeated questions. It felt like an hour had passed before she finally spoke, mouth feeling drier than wool.

“I just want to sleep, bro. Leave me alone and just let me sleep, okay?” she muttered. Ruff closed her eyes and tried to shut out the world..

Sleep dragged her down before she even had a chance to be surprised.

\-------

A worrying amount of time had passed before Ruff murmured that she wanted to be left alone, such that Tuff had been about to ask Dagur to help him remove the pins from the door hinges. He sighed, resting his head against the heavy oak. Maybe he _should_ just let her sleep? He could always sneak her some mutton stew later and talk about how the first Trial went.

A hand on his shoulder reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

Right, Dagur was here in the hallway with him, having very carefully moved around the clutter and odd pieces of furniture shoved into it for various repairwork that never got done. Tuff waited for the inevitable question of how he could live in such disorganized chaos, but the other man didn’t seem interested in prying, thankfully. Though even if Dagur did, at least he seemed he'd actually listen to Tuff's explanation instead of coming up with his own idea of what was going on.

“Girlnut's not feeling up to chatting, hmm? It’s usually best to leave sisters alone when they get in these moods. They know their own minds, and exactly where your kidneys are.”

Tuff snorted, amused. The guy hadn’t been a full-time brother for more than two years and he was already dispensing his wisdom on the subject of brothers and sisters? Though admittedly, it wasn’t bad advice. Ruffnut _was_ a seasoned kidney puncher.

“Heather’s made a very good brother out of you,” he said, turning away from Ruff’s door to face Dagur. He hesitated for a moment, able to hear her quiet snoring.

“She’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of it, right?” Dagur reassured him. Tuffnut looked a little forlorn, but offered a smile.

“Thank you. I don't think I could have gotten anywhere with them if you hadn't come in with me. Who knew you could be so _Kingly_. You totally flayed them! Only Mala could have done it better than you - I’ll never forget the looks on their faces when you . . . ohhh shit. I'm so s- I’m sorry,” Tuff stammered as he watched Dagur's expression crash into sorrow.

Dagur sighed. “It’s okay, I get what you’re saying. I actually learned how to do that from watching her. She always terrified me,” he sighed fondly. “She could bring down the temperature of the room with a single glance. I was always glad when it wasn’t me who messed up.”

Tuff raised an eyebrow. “And you _liked_ that sort of thing?” he asked carefully.

“Sure! I’m a big boy, I can handle getting the third-degree. Maybe smacked around just a bit.”

“I guess that makes sense. I could put up with a lot of pain myself if I knew the person doing it loved me. There’s gotta be a little tenderness in there too, though. Some hand-holding, maybe a nice long walk along the beach, neck massages, getting your hair stroked as you fall asleep together beneath the stars . . .”

“Wow. Never took you for such a romantic. Sure you don’t have a special someone?”

“Pretty sure. I mean, I'm not exactly a catch, am I? What do I have to offer anyone? I don't even have my own possessions to bring into a marriage. I'm not as handsome or smart as Hiccup, or full of knowledge like Fishlegs, or rich and strong like Snotlout. I'm just me, a trickster. I can make people laugh or get mad enough to make mistakes, and I can defend and take care of myself. It's probably best if I never find a special someone, because then they'd be stuck with -"

Tuffnut gestured to all of himself.

Dagur frowned. "I actually think you're pretty cool, Boynut. You're better than just book-smart, you're clever. You know how to take your knowledge and twist the rules without breaking them, how to conceal things, how to blend in with your surroundings. I heard you and your sister infiltrated Viggo's secret base, all by yourselves, and didn't get caught for hours! And when you and Astrid were defending the Edge, I was blown away by that Zippleback gas trap you made. Literally. My eyebrows didn't grow back for a whole week."

Tuffnut snickered, covering his mouth. "Should I be sorry for that?"

"Nah," Dagur returned, smiling easily. "I was pretty mad at the time, but even then I was still impressed. It was different from anything Hiccup or Astrid had ever done and far less predictable and boring - I felt like I was playing real live Maces and Talons! Oh, and then the fiery ropes with the Nightmare gel, and you calling the Night Terrors to bombard us, that was -“ He cut himself off with a laugh.”Man, I'm sure I annoyed the hell out of Ryker, just geeking out over that whole thing! And that was _before_ I found out it was just you and Astrid fighting us off. You made it look like we were up against an army!"

Tuff's smile had only grown wider, even as he ducked his head to let his long hair partially hide it. "I didn't think anyone even remembered that. Everyone else seems to think it was all Astrid's idea - that she ordered me to lay traps and even helped me plan them. If she knew they thought that, I know she'd correct them. But after a while, it's just easier to let people think what they want."

Dagur put his hands on the twin's shoulders, squeezing them gently. "Do they know you guys are going through all this by yourselves?"

A shrug was his answer, but Tuff smiled softly. "I told them what they'd listen to. They have so much going on in their lives, I don't blame them. Ruff and I are used to handling this kind of stuff by ourselves. I mean, it's so crazy - you _met_ our Elders, and you can barely believe what's happened. It's all been going on so long, I don't think they would believe it even if they did find the time to sit down and let us talk."

The Berserker looked sad at that, and he didn't want to bum Dagur out. Tuff stood up a bit straighter and gave him a bright smile. "Hey, no worries. _You're_ helping me now. I think you're doing awesome at it - you're actually _listening_ to me. This is nice, having someone to talk _with_ instead of _at_."

"Oh. Well, thanks," Dagur said, sounding awkward. "And listen, don't be so hard on yourself about 'finding someone special'. First of all, I think girls around here are crazy not to have snagged you by now. And second, not everyone gets married anyway; it's possible you're just not interested in the whole thing. I used to be completely disinterested in girls too, mostly because I never thought in a million years anyone would want to marry me. That’s probably why I fell for Mala so hard. And even though we’re not married anymore, I’m . . . I’m still glad it all happened. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it couldn’t last.”

The guy’s voice was getting teary. Oh no. Had he broken the Berserker?  

“What do you mean you thought nobody wanted to marry you?” Tuff scoffed. “Have you ever _seen_ your reflection? You can throw down in any fight, for one. Look at these things!” Tuff reached out to run his fingers over Dagur’s bicep, squeezing them a bit. The Berserker started stammering but didn’t push Tuffs hands off. Boynut stopped prodding him and let go with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry. But yeah, you’re strong, crafty, brave - and you have the best battle cry! I love the rush of adrenaline laced terror it brings!”

Dagur gave him an odd look at that last part, but Tuff didn’t see it, continuing merrily on.

“Best of all, you care about dragons now - you baby talk them and you get along with emotionally neglected kids like Gustav. You've got this whole 'bad guy redemption arc' thing going on, all the while looking as handsome and rugged as I imagine Thor himself to be.” That got him a raised eyebrow and Tuff backtracked, face reddening. “Uh. Not that I imagine h-how handsome or rugged Thor looks. Very often.”

Dagur smirked crookedly, face more than a little warm. “Yeah? You really think all that?”

“I tell it like it is,” Tuff shrugged. “If she doesn’t already, Mala’s going to regret gicing you up.”

Boynut certainly wasn’t the type to suck up, and there wasn’t any reason for him to be trying it. For some reason, that made Dagur’s face burn even hotter. He didn’t say anything further on the subject, standing up from where he’d been leaning against a broken dresser.

“Huh. Well, anyway, we should figure out what you’re going to do for the first Trial. It’s afternoon and you don’t have much time.”

Tuff looked apprehensive for a second, but then squared his shoulders.

"I think I have an idea."

\------

Filbert had brought his book, despite the others’ insistence that he could leave the ‘dusty old thing’ behind. It was certainly interesting how such an important Thorston relic became suddenly obsolete when it contained a contradiction to the Elders’ will. He had brought it nonetheless, though he feared not any of his pages were going to spare his nephew a whole lot of pain.

Honestly, he wouldn’t blame the boy if he didn’t show up at all. A hot iron was resting on an anvil, ten paces away from a pot of cold water set on a stump. Shrewdspiel and her erstwhile companions were seated around the pot in a half circle, to better observe the proceedings.

Tuffnut and Dagur were making their way up to the hall just before the sun had fully set, meaning they were on time. Neither side was going to have to forfeit in this case.

Filbert looked quickly at his nephew’s hands and his heart sank to find that Tuff wasn’t wearing any discernible glove. He waited until they both approached him to ask, but Grinder beat him to it.

“Well, I suppose we couldn’t find the dragonhide, could we?” she asked, smirking.

“I didn’t bother looking for any,” Tuff shrugged. "I said I wouldn't."

“So you’re just going ahead?” Filbert asked, a little horrified. Shrewdspiel had ordered the bar to be heated until it was white hot. The boy was going to lose his hand. “Lad -”

“Hey, I’ll be okay, Uncle. I’ve touched fireworms before. Turns out it was good practice.” Tuff stretched his arms overhead and arched his back until it popped, before approaching the anvil. “How many paces again?”

“Ten,” Filbert said, still looking aghast.

“And you may not run,” Shrewdspiel put in. Tuff’s face fell.

“Oh. Well, timing wasn’t mentioned before. I suppose I can’t walk really fast either?”

“No. You will walk as slowly and stately, like a perfect gentleman.” The old bat was grinning horribly, but when Filbert looked to the Berserker to see if he’d protest, Dagur gave him a wink.

Tuffnut approached the bar with trepidation and reached for it with his left hand. He took a breath, then closed his hand around it. Without so much as a whimper, Tuff turned toward the pot, white hot iron smoking in his grip and began to walk, slowly, to the pot of water.

He looked a trifle nervous, but he wasn’t screaming. Filbert stared at him, utterly mystified. The Elders likewise were gawking.

Tuff dropped the bar into the water and backed away quickly as a huge hiss of steam nearly overtook the entire room. He breathed out, shaking his hand. Filbert rushed over and seized the boy’s wrist to look over his injuries, but much to his shock, Tuff’s skin was unmarred.

“How on earth are you uninjured?” he marveled.

“Oh, it’s no big deal. Like I said, I used to handle fireworms all the time,” Tuff answered, grinning slyly. “That iron bar was pretty warm, but it didn’t burn me half as bad as those little guys. I mean, ten times hotter than the sun, right?”

“But you - I mean, how is it possible?” Nostril managed shakily.

“Well, you guys said I’m allowed to wear a glove, right?”

“Made of what?!” thundered Shrewdspiel, with an expression of fury that startled even Dagur. She was leaning forward in her seat, fingernails digging into her armrests. “What did you use? Speak!”

“Gronckle saliva,” Tuff shrugged. Earlier, Meatlug had happily licked his arms clean of the powdered rock dust he’d rubbed on himself. In order to protect their most vulnerable areas of skin, Gronckles had a layer of fireproof saliva built up on the interior of their mouths. For a dragon that regularly spat up lava, it was a remarkably well thought out evolutionary trait.

“That’s cheating,” Grinder said automatically.

“No it isn’t. You said no dragon _hide_. Nothing about saliva,” Dagur shrugged. “Honestly we didn’t know if it was going to work. But it did, so I guess that means . . . “

The Elders erupted, fuming and denying, but Shrewdspiel silenced them with a gesture as she stood up. “Very well. You’ve passed the first Trial. We will not debate this any further. Tuffnut Thorston, I want to make it perfectly clear that from now on, absolutely no part of any dragon can help you pass the next two Trials. Dragons were not our friends when we made these rules and it is an unfair advantage. I should have known you were going to try and bend the rules, like the cheater you always have been. It’s my fault for not foreseeing it.”  

Filbert snorted. Dagur rolled his eyes. Tuff, however, looked shocked and then strangely hurt. “Sorry, Gran.”

“I forgive you this one time,” she sniffed, seemingly appeased. “Do it again, however, and you shall be disqualified. Your next Trial shall be in the family pit, tomorrow night. You will face down a beast, using a weapon of your choice. Only when the beast is defeated will you be let out of the pit and declared the winner.”

“Sounds straightforward enough,” Dagur shrugged. “What is this beast?”

“It’s not a dragon, if you’re worried,” she smirked. “There’s no need to prepare for this. Weapons will be provided.”

She hadn’t answered the question, but Tuff shrugged. “Okay. Tomorrow night at the pit. Thanks, see you then.”

He turned to give a quick nod to a relieved Filbert and walked toward the door, muttering under his breath. Filbert exchanged a confused glance with Dagur, and narrowed his eyes at Shrewdspiel, who looked entirely too pleased with herself.

What on Midgard was she planning now?

***

“Don’t you need more information than that?” Dagur asked, following Tuff outside. “She didn’t tell us anything useful.”

“If it’s in the pit, it’s definitely a boar. Probably the meanest one they have. It’ll be okay, though. I’ve wrestled with many a boar,” Tuff assured him. After a moment of uncharacteristic quiet, he looked at Dagur. “You don’t . . . think I’m a cheater, do you?”

“What? No! Of course you aren’t - you fit the parameters of the challenge. They said anything but dragonhide. Besides, they cheated on this whole thing like five times already. They could have adapted the Trial to fit the new reality - that dragons live with us now. Instead, they chose to be lazy and uncreative,” Dagur shrugged. “Not your fault. The only thing I’m worried about is whether you played your hand too strong. The next Trial is going to be even harder and probably completely unfair.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it is. Though you have to admit, there’s some comfort in knowing they’re going to be up way past their bedtime figuring out how to Loki-proof a boar fight,” Tuff smirked.

Dagur looked at him a long moment. “You aren’t even a little nervous, are you? I’ve seen men killed by boars who come from families of hunters. _I’m_ nervous.”

“Well, I am too, if we’re being candid. But there’s no point worrying about it until I’m actually in that pit. I’m going to beat these Trials, and by their rules. Then they’ll have to listen to us and give Ruff anything she wants.”

Oh. So determination and worry was fueling him rather than any actual plan. Boynut was going to burn out at this rate. Dagur had seen the scrawny boy fight Hunters, and while he was a challenge when angered, Tuff had also been captured and knocked down plenty of times. He was strong, but not unbreakable.

And judging by the set of his body, he was also as tense as a tripwire.

“Follow me. I know something that will help you,” the Berserker said, reaching a decision. When Tuff raised a curious eyebrow, Dagur grinned reassuringly. “It’s okay. I’m going to show you how to relax your body and focus your mind.”

The trickster opened his mouth to protest but just as quickly shut it. Ruff had said she didn’t want his company right now. Meaning he didn’t really have anywhere to be either. “Okay. If you think it’ll help.”

“It can’t hurt.” Dagur led Tuff to a small stone courtyard that was out of the way of regular traffic and planted with fruit trees. The apples had been harvested in the fall and the bite of winter was yet to make the rest of their leaves fall off.

The Berserker sat down and pulled Tuff to sit in front of him. “Lotus position. Sit like me.”

Tuffnut looked slightly lost but he copied Dagur, placing his hands in his lap briefly before Dagur took his wrists, resting his hands on his knees, palms facing up.

“Just like that. Now hold your head up and lift up your heart, breathing in deep and slow. You can close your eyes if you want.”

Slowly and with surprising gentleness, Dagur talked Tuff through the exercise, occasionally reaching over to adjust his shoulders and limbs into the proper positions. When Tuff was settled, Dagur got back into his own space and copied his posture, sighing as tension slowly left his body. He had tried this countless times after an argument between him and Mala, but this was the first time it felt like it was working. Dagur breathed in for four seconds, then out for the same amount of time - instructing his companion to do the same.

He lost track of time as the sky slowly darkened, at last feeling a rare peace that had eluded him for months.

It was broken eventually by a soft snore and his arms were suddenly full of warm pressure. Dagur blinked back to awareness and looked down to see a very exhausted twin - slumped forward, face planted against the middle of Dagur’s chest, and fast asleep.

Dagur gently shook him awake, smirking when Tuff looked up in a daze. Abruptly the blond sat straight up, face reddening.

“Sorry,” Tuff muttered. He fidgeted with his arm brace and didn’t meet Dagur’s eyes.

“It’s alright. I’ve fallen asleep plenty of times doing this. How do you feel?”

“Better,” Tuff yawned, stretching. He looked at Dagur owlishly. “You don’t . . . you don’t think Ruff will hate me if I fail, do you?”

Dagur paused. “I don’t see why she would. This entire thing is crazy. Neither of you should have to do this just to live your own lives.”

“It’s just the way our family is,” Tuff shrugged. “There’s some rules even Ruff and I have to follow. Neither of us want to be disowned - we've tried everything to belong to the clan but almost everyone seems to see us as born failures. Don’t get me wrong, I’m furious at my elders. They keep playing games and getting our hopes up, and it always turns into lies and broken promises. No matter what though, I have to do this. I have to pass these Trials for both of us - and prove that we’re worth being respected and listened to.”

“Boynut, what your grandma said to your mom when you were born was horrible. I have to admit I'm concerned - these Trials sound like an excuse to get you killed or maimed - they were going to let you burn your hand off!  And we have no idea what any of them said to your sister, but it couldn’t have been good if she’s hiding in her room and sleeping all day. You guys are all blood - you shouldn't need to prove _anything_ to be accepted.”

“Yeah, but we've caused so many disappointments and catastrophes . . . also lowered property values,” Tuff insisted, looking crestfallen. “At least not everyone is like our Elders. Some people are actually nice to us, like cousin Leadfoot, and Agnut and their kids. And there’s other cousins and aunts too that seem to tolerate us. Sure, the Elders can be unreasonable and petty, and . . . and I guess I was foolishly hoping they’d think I was clever to use Gronckle saliva.”

”I thought you were clever,” Dagur supplied, and Tuff smiled at him brightly.

"Really? Thanks. Maybe it’ll be different when I pass all the Trials. They’ll treat us better, they won’t send my sister off to marry a stranger. It’s not even Ruff’s fault all this is happening, it’s mine. I’m the one who keeps making mistakes and . . . even when I try my hardest, it never goes well. I’m kind of surprised they’re not trying to send me off instead.”

His voice went a bit uneven and Dagur automatically reached out to grip his shoulders, feeling a pang in his chest.

“Tuff, why would you think such a thing? Your Elders don’t seem to have liked anyone in their entire lives.”

“Oh, it’s different for other Thorstons, trust me. Granny turns into the complete opposite of herself when she’s around her other grandkids. She hugs and caresses and talks in the sweetest voice. But never to us. Ruff tried to do everything Gran wanted her to do. You know, be ladylike and all - even though she was miserable. I got her and myself into trouble constantly because she loved me and would copy everything I did. So it’s only right that I fix this. Ruff’s always done her best to fix everything for me.”

Dagur could find a hundred reasons why it was neither of their faults, why both Twins shouldn’t care what the Thorston family thought of them. He also knew Tuff wouldn’t be able to listen to any of them.

Anyway it wasn’t like _he_ should really be dispensing advice on how to deal with estranged family members.

“If these Trials are really going to help you and your sister, let’s do it. I said I’d help you, but let’s make it clear that I’m not going to let you die doing any of these.”

To his surprise, Tuffnut perked up. “So you’ll be here for the other Trials too? Cause you technically don’t _have_ to go to any of them . . . aren't you busy?”

“Well, Heather ordered me to take a break, so not really. Why shouldn't I hang around? Besides, I’ve already bonded with Hiccup, Astrid, Fishlegs and Snotlout - but almost every time I've had a chance to share a moment with you Twins, you had your own important things going on. One time to find Chicken and then to save Hiccup from that traitor Johann. I totally respect that, but we’ve never really gotten to hang out as friends.”

Tuff stared at him. “You consider us friends?” he asked, sounding shocked.

“Uh, yeah? Of course I do. You and your sister helped me and Mala-poo get together, remember? I'm not about to forget that. Not to mention that awesome exploding dessert you guys gifted us with. Mala hated it, but for me it was like a nice hot fruit bath, and it didn't taste half bad.” Dagur stopped reminiscing and took a pained breath. “It’s okay. I’m still glad that all happened, by the way.”

He almost didn't catch Tuffnut’s wince of guilt. "Sorry. I mean, we weren't trying to trick you guys or get you to fall in love, we just wanted you guys to get along and have fun. If I'd known -"

Dagur put an arm around Tuff's shoulders. "It's fine. There's good memories as well as bad. I learned a lot with Mala as my wife, and in the end it turned out not to be not such a good match."

"I'm . . . glad the Dance of Blades was really just a dance," Tuff muttered, face going pink.

"Oh? Why, what did you think it was?"

Tuffnut looked oddly bashful, but he told the story anyway, of Mala tricking them into thinking she was going to execute Dagur at the wedding. She hadn't said as much, but a woman beheading an effigy of her fiancé was understandably alarming. The Twins had both tried to detained Mala, fooled by her prank - but Barf and Belch had sensed no danger from the woman and had been completely useless.

He tried not to laugh, he honestly did, but Dagur was amused and also deeply touched. "You guys seriously tried to take on Mala? For me?"

"Well, we didn't know what else to do," Tuff admitted. "When you guys came back, Ruff and I made a stink about it, but then she said it was just a dance on new blades of grass. And the 'gift' wasn't your disembodied head, just whittled dragons made from lava rock. Had to admire the prank, I mean at least she had a sense of humor - but I honestly couldn't sleep very well until the wedding."

Dagur stared at him. "You were actually worried about me?"

"Yeah, of course I was. It was our fault you started getting along with her, and then she says she's going to behead you after the wedding? We already thought you'd died _once_ , and that was bad enough."

The Berserker went quiet for a bit, processing that in silence. He didn't really know what to say to all that, so he returned to an earlier topic, though his voice was gentle when he spoke next.

“Anyway . . . I’ll stay for all of the Trials, but I’ll have to find a place to sleep. I came with Sleuther, but the stables are a bit crowded over here. Think Hiccup will let me sleep in the Great Hall?”

Tuff gave him a look. “You’re a Chief, and still technically the King of Caldera Cay. We can’t have you sleeping on a bench in the Great Hall for everyone to see. You’ll have my bed. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Your bed? Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Though if I roll under it and mutter creepily in my sleep, don’t be alarmed. I’m just like that sometimes.”

Dagur gave him an odd look, though the corners of his mouth turned up a bit. “You’re pretty weird, Boynut. Not that there’s anything wrong with a little weirdness.”

Tuffnut smirked at him and stretched his arms over his head. Night had fallen, and the moon was giving silvery blue highlights to the village.

Dagur stood up and waited for the twin to follow. Tuff honestly looked ready to drop from exhaustion, but he got to his feet and nudged him with his shoulder lightly, leading the way home. "Want to hear a joke?" he asked.

"Sure."

"What do you call a yak with no legs?"

"Uh, not sure. What?"

"Ground yak," Tuff grinned. "Mmm, delicious." He licked his lips for emphasis and Dagur found himself chuckling, shaking his head. "Here's another one . . ."

Dagur walked with him, relaxed and occasionally outright laughing at the boy's jokes, though more at the silly mannerisms in which Tuffnut told them. Boynut had always delighted in making people happy, and it was impressive he was still doing so -even as he was going through pain himself. 

It only made him like Tuff even more.

 


	5. Bread and Bacon

Her daughter hadn’t come down for lunch or dinner, and it seemed she was going to do the same for breakfast.

Madge sighed and put aside the eggs she’d gathered from the chickens, and gave a dissatisfied look to the lump of bread dough refusing to rise properly. It was a bad omen for the morning dough not to rise, and she was in no mood for bad omens - not the least when they concerned her kids.

Wiping her hands off, she headed upstairs. Hardsell snored on from his chair despite the noise she made in her wooden shoes. She ignored him just the same, knocking on Ruffnut’s door.

There was no answer for a good solid moment. Then a voice rasped for her to come in.

Madge slipped inside, surprised to find the door unlocked and saw a lump of blankets sitting upright on the bed. Ruff had wrapped them around herself completely, a huge makeshift hood sloping forward to hide her face.

“Hello, spectre of doom,” Madge said lightly, sitting next to her. “Have you seen my daughter? I’m very worried and would like to know what on earth is going on.”

There was a long pause. “I never told you, huh. I figured Agnut did.”

Madge sighed and pulled an apple and few wedges of cheese out of her apron pocket. It was her own breakfast she’d been nibbling on as she did the morning chores, but she suspected Ruff hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.

The lump of blankets seemed to consider the gift for a moment before a hand reached out and pulled the food deep into the folds of material. Seconds later there was the sound of crunching and Madge relaxed a bit.

“Now, why don’t you start with how the meeting went.”

It took some time and plenty of tears, but the story got out. Madge wanted to cry herself. She also wanted to punch a few faces in. The older woman dabbed at her eyes and took a breath, then put her arms around Ruff, who leaned into them despondently.

“Sweet girl,” Madge sighed. “I didn’t want to imagine they’d be so cruel. Or I would have never let you go to that damn meeting. This is my fault, not yours.”

“How is it yours?” Ruff sobbed. “I’m the one who couldn’t be good enough! And if I don’t do it, they'll send him -”

“I know, I know - shhh. I know I told you not to worry for your brother, but I didn’t expect them to do this. Something’s up. I’m going to talk to some people and figure it out. Where’s your brother?”

“No idea. I - I told him to leave me alone for a while.” Ruff took a shaky breath. “I have to get fitted for my dress today.”

Madge felt her heart hurt. “Well, I can come with you, if you like.”

Ruff gave the smallest of nods and curled over, leaning against her mother's side.

Madge stroked her arm through the blanket, holding her and singing a low sweet song. Once more, exhaustion crept its tendrils around Ruffnut's limbs, lulling her into an uneasy sleep. 

The older woman sighed and arranged Ruff to be more comfortable on the bed. She got up, passing Tuffnut’s room on the way to resume cooking breakfast. She paused in her steps halfway past when she heard a strange sound.

Well, more like a dual chorus of sounds.

The door was cracked open and she put a hand on it to widen the gap, slowly peering inside.

There was a red-headed young man laying in her son’s bed. Even more  _interestingly,_ her son was sprawled out on top of him, long legs tangled together with his. Both of them looked quite cozy, snoring softly with their faces inches apart.

This wasn’t terribly uncommon; her son had likely forgotten he’d given up the bed to his visiting friend - likely sleepwalking to and from the privy in the middle of the night.

Madge studied the other one's face, finally recognizing the blue tattoos across his eye. She didn’t startle, but tilted her head, intrigued. She hadn’t been aware Tuff was such a close friend of Oswald’s son.

After a moment, she cleared her throat gently.

She did it again, louder, when it failed to stir either of them.

Dagur’s eyes blinked open first and categorized his new situation in about four seconds. His green eyes glanced over Tuff, who was sleepily nuzzling his shoulder, then shot back to Madge as she stood bemused in the doorway.

There was another pause as his brain calculated what it all meant and then he sat bolt upright, which caused Tuff to unceremoniously drop off the bed and onto the floor.

“ _Momnut_?!” he yelped in panicked surprise.

Immediately, Dagur’s face reddened as he stumbled to correct himself. “I - I mean, Thorston! Mrs. Thorston!” He kicked off blankets, struggling to get up, while Tuff muttered plaintively about his ‘grumpy pillow’ and rolled underneath the bed, snoring once again.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“You mean you _weren’t_ sleeping in the same bed as my son?” Madge asked, failing to keep a smirk off her face.

“I, well, yes I was, but he invited me. I thought he was going to take the floor!”

She watched him flounder, babbling excuses, but at last had mercy and put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm yourself, boyo. I’m not angry. Far from it - it’s good he has friends. Let him sleep just a bit longer and come with me. I’ve got breakfast to get ready. You can help if you like.”

Dagur blinked, and then sighed in relief. He offered her a sheepish grin. “Okay. Uh, sure. I actually would love to help with breakfast - I haven’t gotten to cook in a while.”

Madge walked around the bed and effortlessly pulled her son out from beneath, tossing him back onto the mattress as though he weighed no more than a quilt. Tuff murmured something sweetly nonsensical, but didn’t appear to wake at all, instead curling on his side like a drowsy cat.

Looking at him, Dagur couldn’t help but smile. “He was pretty exhausted after the first Trial. Is Girlnut doing any better?”

Madge didn’t answer right away, instead beckoning Dagur to follow her down the stairs. When he followed her into the kitchen, past the sleeping man in his chair before the fire, she turned and let out a sigh. “Now we can speak freely. I’ve been worried for my girl since she returned yesterday. She’s hardly eating. I’ve no doubt Tuff’s been exhausting himself trying to fix the unfixable.”

“Thank - finally!” Dagur exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “Er, sorry. You’re the first family member who sees the futility in all this.  I just can’t figure out how to tell him they’ve got everything rigged against him winning. This clan is horrible - no offense meant.”

“Absolutely none taken. The ones you’ve met are all on his side of the family.” Madge beckoned over her shoulder to the man snoring before the fire. “Except for my brother Filbert, of course.”

“Can’t the Twins just join your clan?”

“My family would love to have them, though they don’t all live on Berk. We Knutts are a nomadic tribe, spread out across islands in the Archipelago. It’s out of my hands now anyway; the Twins have already passed their initiation Trials to become Thorstons. Now they must either accept the decision of their father’s side of the family, or be disowned and cast away as failures.”

Madge was working as she talked, getting out a pan and slicing up a smoked boar jowl. She beckoned to Dagur who took over for her, kneeling to arrange the bacon and covering it with a lid as he placed it over the embers of the kitchen fire. Then she went back to the counter, critically glaring at the proofing dough.

“It won’t be the end of the world if they get disowned. I fear for them having a worse fate than remaining clanless. Ruffnut just told me _why_ she accepted the Elder’s decision.”

Dagur looked up, frowning. “Well they’ve already try to seriously maim her brother as of last night, so I can’t imagine it was a fun reason,” he snarked.

The Twins’ mother looked over at him, expression grave. “No, it absolutely was not. They were plotting to sell Tuffnut as a thrall to cover his cousin’s debts.”

“What?!” Dagur yelped, springing to his feet. Madge motioned for him to be quiet, and glanced toward her husband. He opened his eyes, glaring around him for a moment, then dropped his head back to his chest and snored on.

“Are you serious?!” Dagur hissed. “How do they possibly think they'd ever get away with that?! Have you told anyone? Hiccup? Stoick?”

“There’s nothing they can do. The Chief cannot interfere with clan traditions and rules. My sister Hazel’s boy looks very much like my son, and Gruffnut is a liar and a con artist. There’s no proof whether or not either of them are the culprit for all the money he cheated people out of, and currently Gruffnut’s  whereabouts are unknown. Yet he thoughtfully left my son’s name with his victims as a parting clue.”

Madge was punching the dough, which had finally started to rise. “The Thorston Clan is not to be underestimated. If the Elders wish for someone to disappear, the entirety of Berk is led to believe that person left of their own choice. Suggestions are planted, personal effects they would take are vanished, and nobody ever hears from them again.”

“So what happens if he loses the Trials? ”

“As far as I’ve found out, they really do intend to marry Ruffnut off for the biggest amount  of gold they can get. It’s anyone’s guess what price she’ll have to pay for the lies they told. As for Tuffnut . . . well, who on Berk would really be surprised if he simply wasn’t there any longer - obviously choosing to take a dragon and fly off to be near his reluctantly wed sister? In reality, he would be smuggled away from Berk by ship, and given over in chains to pay off Gruffnut’s debts. Even though he failed the induction Trials, the daft fool is still in better standing than either of my children. ”

“Why though? What could the Twins have possibly done to deserve any of this?”

“It’s nothing _they_ did. It’s what I did. And they’ll pay for it along with me, for as long as we stay on Berk and with this family. It’s true I can take both of them and fly very far away out of the Thorstons’ reach, but that’s what the family wants me to do. I love living here. I grew up here, and so did my children. Their friends and their dragons live here in peace and safety. I cannot promise them that the rest of the world will be as kind.”

Dagur felt sympathy for her, understanding how hard it would be to just uproot everything and vanish. He wouldn’t be able to take his dragon out there into the unknown, not with all those Hunters everywhere. There was a notable lack of dragon sanctuaries in the Archipelago, and finding a safe village for a fatherless, clanless family would be even harder.

“So . . . this Hardsell guy.” He tilted his head toward the room where the man sat, snoring away and dead drunk. “He doesn’t hit you or the twins, right?”  

“He still gives the occasional cuff, but he’s not as bad as he used to be. Got after them constantly when they were smaller, always quick to take off his belt and thrash them to tears,” Madge shrugged. “But he’s a ten pound sack of chicken shit in a two pound bag, and I’ve laid him out cold more than once. He never remembers what happened the night before, thanks to all the mead swelling his brain.”

Dagur gave a distasteful look toward the room Hardsell was currently napping in. “Okay. So I take it he’s no help here.”

“The most helpful thing that man’s ever done is sleep all day so I don’t have to tiptoe around on eggshells doing the chores. He’s a lazy useless drunk, but a manageable one. I had thought they were going to saddle Ruff with the same copy of Thorston ‘grandness’.  I don’t know the nature of the man they picked, but he is unknown to any of us. Her wedding won’t even be here, but on another island, presumably a lonely and quick transaction. Which fills me with dread, because what kind of man cannot visit Berk and get to know his future wife’s family - unless he’s someone no-one from Berk would want to marry?”

He thought about it and winced. “A dragon Hunter?”

“More likely a merchant in the same field of business. Ruffnut has told me he’s wealthy and made quite the offer for a bride. I hear Zippleback skins are quite valuable nowadays. To have a wife who knows how to train her husband’s prey . . . that would be an equally valuable investment.” She spat into the fire, glaring.

Uncomfortably, Dagur remembered taunting Tuff about that once, on Ryker’s ship. He shook his head, not wanting to think about the way Boynut had backed away from him - looking disgusted, angry, _hurt_.

“She’d go crazy,” he murmured. “The Twins love their dragon. It would break her even more. What would be the point of doing it though? Besides for kicks.”

“Knowing Shrewdspiel’s cruelty, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if it _was_ just for kicks. However, I have to wonder. The Thorston clan used to have more money to get us all  through the winters, but for the first time in a while, our personal stores have become lean. People are starting to ask where all the gold that used to come in is going - why we don’t have supplies, why Halls are falling into disrepair and ruin. The Elders are furious when anyone brings it up and will punish anyone who publically questions them.”

Dagur snorted. “That’ll end well. So they’re cheaters and liars and directly responsible for all the clan’s money going away. They plan to sell Tuff to cover one debt, and marry Ruff off to the highest bidder to get extra money?”

“It’s seeming as though that’s their intent.”

Madge gave the dough one final punch and brushed it over with egg whites before cutting a cross in the top and rounding it. She worked in silence, setting it on a metal tray beaten out of an old shield and pushing it into the crackling dutch oven. Dagur let her be, knowing by the set of her shoulders that she was beyond furious at this possibility.

Who wouldn't be, honestly?

“You know what’s weird? Her punishing you by punishing the Twins doesn’t make much sense If Hardsell’s her son. Aren’t they his kids too?” Dagur mused, rambling aloud thoughtlessly as he checked on the bacon. It was mostly just to fill the silence and because he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his jangling nerves.

He glanced at Madge and then stopped talking, seeing that she had a hand over her mouth and was silently crying.

Oh shit. _Stupid Dagur, stupid stupid stupid -_

Berating himself though he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d said wrong, Dagur yanked the bacon out of the heat, and moved to grab a chair for her. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t - I wasn’t trying to upset you -”

She waved his apology off. “It’s fine, boyo, I’m not cross with you. There have been many cruel things said by people who do not know the truth and only think they do. My children are suffering now because of . . . because of something I did long ago. I bore the brunt of the family’s hatred for years, but I truly believed the Elders when they said they would never take their anger out on my children - who are innocent in all of this. They went back on their word. Ruffnut is being married off to a stranger and my son is being sent away for a crime he did not commit.”

Dagur frowned, worried, and dragged over another chair to sit in front of her. “If you guys are in danger, please know you can come to Berserker Island any time. Forget the Trials. My tribe would welcome you with open arms. The Twins would probably love it, and they can bring their dragon, and Chicken and whatever other pets they may have.”

Madge laughed through her tears and squeezed his shoulder. “You’ve become a good man, Dagur Oswaldson. Thank you, truly for offering. Moving away will not fix anything, however. The debt collectors will still attempt to collect. Ruffnut’s fiance may very well object to her being stolen away. If my husband’s clan feels the heat from it, they’ll spare no expense or effort to seek us out and bring us back like wayward chattel.

“Tuffnut completing the Trials is the only thing that will give us any leverage. I don’t doubt they’ll try to wiggle out of it somehow, but if the Chief of Berserkers witnesses him beat the Trials, then the Elders will have a much harder time going back on their word.”

Madge looked honestly tired, yet hopeful. It reminded Dagur sharply of his own mother, skin pale and eyes sunken yet gazing so proudly at the bump in her belly that would become his baby sister. He looked away, but reached up to his shoulder to pat her hand.

“It’s going to be alright no matter what happens. I promise you right now that the entire Thorston clan is going to have to go through me to get to either Tuffnut, Ruffnut, or you. Berserker promise.”

Dagur held out his arm for her to clasp. She copied the gesture as flawlessly as though she’d grown up in his village, though it didn’t occur to him to be surprised.

Madge took a breath and combed the stray hairs out of her face, wiping her eyes. “His second Trial is today at sundown, correct? What are the rules?”

“Trial by Beast. Boynut thinks it’s a boar, since it’s going to be in the ‘family pit’. Shrewdspiel looked pretty smug about it and didn’t answer my question,” Dagur mused.

“Question?”

“About what this ‘beast’ was. She said weapons would be provided.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, Dagur groaned. “Of course! She’s going to provide completely useless weapons - ones you can’t use against a boar in close quarters!”

“It could be that,” Madge sighed. “I wouldn’t put anything past them right now.” She stood up and brushed off her clothing. “In any case, we need to resume cooking if anyone’s going to get to eat.” She paused and looked up the stairs for a long moment, listening.

With a sudden mischievous grin at Dagur, she cupped her hands around her mouth and crowed loudly, like a rooster. Hardsell snorted, but predictably didn’t wake, though there was a sudden crash and loud cursing coming from Boynut’s room.

The bemused expression on the Berserker’s face did not change as Tuff came hopping out of his room fastening up his boot, looking ready to kill someone. He bolted down the stairs, taking two at a time.

“I swear by Fenrir’s fetters, I’m gonna throw that stupid jerk into a Nadder nest,” he grumbled nonsensically, storming past both of them. “He shows up _now_ ? Really? When Chicken’s just _finally_ getting her life back together with the kids after he _dumped_ her?  I don’t _think_ so!”

“Could you get us some eggs for breakfast, boyo?”

“Sure,” Tuff agreed absently, ducking out of the doorway and into the courtyard, searching for his mortal avian enemy. Dagur tilted his head at Madge, just a bit lost.

“I don’t understand why he’s so worked up about roosters lately,” Madge shrugged. “But regardless - **Loki’d**!” she sang sweetly out the window.

“Mom!” Tuffnut roared from the yard, sounding exasperated.

Dagur and Madge burst out laughing, taking a much needed break from the earlier somber mood.

***

Ruff didn’t once lift her head as she walked with Madge to the village seamstress, Crone Ygla.

Her mother was trying her best to distract her, pointing out people with interesting looking bone structure. She was good at getting Ruff to look, but it didn’t cheer her up any, not even when some faces were asymmetrical.

She was looking down again at the toes of her boots, lost in a swirling vortex of doomed thoughts.

Tuffnut had tried talking to her that morning, but she still couldn’t bear to see him. Her brother would likely never know what she was doing, and she wanted to keep it that way; otherwise he’d obviously interfere and make everything ten times worse. Ruff sighed testily. She knew she was being unfair to her twin, but right now it was so much easier to feel sorry for herself than do anything useful.

The Elder’s words had hurt her deeply, validating every single thing she’d ever thought about herself. It had crushed her esteem and continued to do so the more she replayed it in her head, sending despair coursing through her like a relentless tidal wave.

It was clear now that nobody would care she was going away to get married against her will. Otherwise someone would have made an effort to stop all this, right?

“Well, look at that. I see Hiccup’s finally embraced nudism,” Madge commented brightly.

Ruff’s mind screeched to a halt, crashing awkwardly through several brick walls on the way. She looked around wildly before catching herself, face suddenly burning.

“Mom!” she yelped, mortified that she’d actually fallen for it. Madge gave her a triumphant grin.

“There! Got your attention at last. Good. Now, I have to talk to you about your brother. Did you know he’s -”

“Ugh!” Ruff threw her hands up. “Look, can’t you tell me about whatever Tuff’s doing later? I’m sure it’s a funny story and all, but I just want to get this stupid fitting over with.”

“Hmm. And then go home and take another nap, I suppose?”

“Yes. Twenty of them - I’ll take the dress and also twenty naps. Wake me when the wedding’s over,” she griped, crossing her arms.

A figure stumbled out of Crone Ygla’s house, face covered over with a veil. She beckoned to them to come inside and led the way into the darkened house.

Ruff thought it was a bit weird for the old woman to be prancing around in veils like a market dancer, but maybe Ygla was going through some kind of self-improvement workshop. Whatever.

They followed her in and stood in the darkened space while Ygla moved about unsteadily, once nearly tripping on a large lump in the middle of the floor. The woman seemed to be searching for her measuring tools, and kept knocking things over. The veil in front of her face couldn’t be helping her see very well.

Ruff watched her blankly, not impressed. She decided Ygla wasn’t going to stick pins anywhere _near_ her body until either there was better lighting in here, or the old bat sobered up.

Madge put a hand on her arm. “Ruff, listen. Your brother is trying to help you. Don’t turn your back on him. He’s worried for you - we all are.”

“Well there’s not much he can do, is there?” Ruff muttered. “He missed his meeting. I know because they changed it last minute and Walnut couldn’t find him. So now he’s probably running around asking Hiccup and Fishlegs and Astrid for help and sure, maybe they can cobble together something, but it’s not like they really care or even believe us. Astrid thinks we make up everything that happens. They think we’re liars! You know, I bet they’re actually glad to see me go,” she said, throat closing up.

Madge sighed. Then she opened her hand and gave Ruff a solid whack upside the head.

“Wha- OWWW!” Ruffnut yelled, rubbing her crown. It hadn’t been nearly hard, but it had been sorely unexpected. “Why!?”

“Because you are wrong and you are not listening to me, too busy living up in here!” Madge pointed to Ruff’s temple. “Daughter I love you, but you are very frustrating when you pout. Your brother is taking the Trials,” she added in hurriedly before Ruffnut could start an argument. “He did not miss his meeting. That Berserker boy is helping him as his Speaker.”

“Berserker boy?” Ruff asked blankly, mind busy processing all that information.

“Oswald’s son, Dagur. He is helping your brother, and Tuffnut has already passed the first Trial. He is heading to the second one as we speak.”

Ruffnut gawked. “Wait, he is? But what’s he taking it for? I mean, they said they’d make him a fish cleaner, but that’s one of the jobs he said he didn’t mind getting - “

“For you, naturally! For this wedding to be cancelled, for everything to go back to normal. Tuff managed to convince the Elders that if he wins the Trials, both of you get your own voice.”

“So . . . so if he wins, he won’t get sold into slavery because of Gruff? And I won’t have to marry this guy?” Ruff asked, blinking. Something in her chest lifted and then branched out, wild and flowering like a Typhoomerang spiral.

Tuffnut had done it. He’d done what she could not, all on his own. The boy she’d spent most of her life defending and protecting and making all her decisions around had found a way to save her, like he always did when she was in trouble. How could she have ever doubted her brother?

“Then what the heck am I getting fitted for? I want to go cheer him on!”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said a rough voice. It did not belong to Ygla, or any female Ruff knew.

All at once, Ruff’s world went dark and she could smell onions and burlap. As she struggled, she heard her mother cry out her name and then a sharp crack. Madge fell silent, not responding no matter how much Ruffnut shouted her name or strained to listen.

She felt something hit her on the back of her head, and then there was nothing to say or hear at all.


	6. Trial by Beast

The Thorston Pit was located beneath a courtyard which was almost as big as the former Kill Ring, far up on the higher peaks of Berk. The conglomeration of huts, drinking halls, dog kennels, barns and boar pens was surrounded by what looked like a fortress.

For Tuffnut and Dagur, the heavy doors swung open once Tuff cheerfully gave his name, letting them both inside. A group of young boys ran across their path, screaming as they chased each other in a game that probably had too many rules for adults to comprehend.

“Ah, I remember when Ruff and I were just little sprogs ourselves - we had to trade places constantly.”

“Trade places?” Dagur asked. “For what?”

“Oh, they don’t let the girls play like that. Rough housing, I mean. Girls are supposed to learn stuff like sewing and laundry and homemaking - while the boys learn how to hunt, train dogs, herd boars, and wrestle.”

Dagur frowned, able to see a group of girls sitting quietly along a wall, obviously waiting for their teacher. “Doesn’t seem very fair. On Berserker Island, we just let everyone learn what they want.”

“Wow, that must be nice,” Tuff said, without bitterness. “Yet another reason to wish we were born Berserk.”

The man raised his eyebrow at him, but smirked. “You like my island that much? You know, you’re both welcome to move there if it comes to that.”

Tuffnut blinked at him. “Did you just invite us to move in with you?” he asked, tone a bit odd. Dagur felt a sudden heat in his face and wondered if he needed to backtrack.

“Well, it doesn’t seem much fun living here. And we have an open door policy.”

Tuffnut stopped in his tracks and turned, putting his hands on Dagur’s shoulders. “Thank you so much - really, it is so sweet you'd let us live on your island. But the chaos and Loki'ing would only get irritating after a while and you'd probably never view us as friends again. It really is better if we stay here and try to work things out with the family."

The lighthearted resignation in his tone made the Berserker’s chest ache. “You know we're Berserkers, right? Not model citizens or do-gooders - not necessarily do-wrongers either. I think you guys would fit right in - maybe even be happy with us. And even if you decide you'd rather live on Berk with your dragons and friends -  once you're a Berserker, you're always a Berserker. You'd be part of our family whether you liked it or not."

Tuff was looking at him in shock, face turning slowly red. The spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose stood out a bit more and Dagur found himself idly trying to count them. He felt abashed, unsure what to do with his hands.

“Uh. Cool,” Tuffnut murmured, seeming to find what he was searching for in Dagur’s expression. He looked away, face still burning, but the corners of his mouth were turned up in a shy smile. “We - um. We’d better move on. I want to show you some things if we have time.”

There seemed to be people everywhere, all talking and going about their business. Some gave Tuff a glance and smirked before looking away, others simply ignored his presence. “Hey, Longreach, how’s it going?” he asked, trying to be friendly anyway.

Longreach sneered at Tuff as though he were a pile of boar leavings, shoving past and nearly knocking the young man off balance. Tuffnut just moved along placidly, saying nothing. If he was upset by the dismissal, he didn’t indicate as much.

Instead he excitedly pointed out a tapestry that hung in front of one of the classrooms, a conglomeration of past students’ embroidery. Each child had got a corner to show off their best work.

“This is mine,” he said, pointing to a lower corner of the tapestry. “Ruff dressed like me that day, and I put my hair up like hers and wore her clothing - we did that sometimes. She let me be her so I could do this part.”

There was a tiny Skrill, weaving in and out of a string of purple dandelions. It was blowing technicolor fire at a tiny person who was running away, screaming and holding their scorched bum.

“I snuck back and added this part later, when the teacher made Ruffnut cry. She found a snake and tried to bring it to class to show everyone, and it went exactly as wrong as you’d expect.”

“Huh. I don’t see what’s so awful about snakes. Heather and I used to run around chasing snakes when we were little. She wasn't afraid of them at all.”

Tuff smiled sheepishly. “Eh. I was. I was very scared of snakes, even though Ruff loved them. She would chase me with them and put them in my pillowcase, my hair. It was awful.”

“You were scared of snakes? Are you still?” Dagur smirked.

“Only a bit. I imagine them now with tiny dragon wings and they’re too cute to be scared of.”

“Oh, so like Slitherwings.” Dagur teased him.

Tuff made a face. “Thanks for that so much, Dagur,  I’d nearly forgotten about those moist monstrosities.”

Dagur snickered, looking back at the needlepoint Skrill. “You have good taste in dragons. It’s done really well too! Do you still do needlepoint? Are there more of your pieces at home?”

“I . . . it’s  . . . well, uh . . . yeah?” Tuffnut floundered, looking a bit overwhelmed. Dagur had caught him off guard and now his face was slowly resembling a tomato. “Yeah, I got other needlepoint art at home. I even have a few more Skrill portraits - one turned out really cool. It’s a big Skrill wrapped around the harvest moon in the night sky over Berk’s harbor. I’ve always liked the Skrill. And also the Whispering Death, Flightmare, Typhoomerang, Monstrous Nightmare, Razorwhip . . . Sorry. I’m - you really like needlepoint art that much?”

Aw. He was so bashful it was cute. Seriously though, had nobody given this guy a compliment in his life?

“I like _your_ work. You use good color judgement - almost brings him to life.” Dagur said, running his fingers over the Skrill. He fought to keep an amused smirk off his face as Tuff seemed to turn even redder, pulling his braids forward to try and hide behind a curtain of his hair.

“Heh. Well, anyway, I would trade with Ruff to learn sewing and needlepoint, and do a bit of cooking. And she’d learn how to fight and hunt - her two favorite things. Not having to sit still kept her from going crazy and punching everyone - that’s what she always told me.”

“And you ended up liking her classes better?”

“Yeah actually. She was miserable learning sewing. Always got the thread tangled up and she could never fit anything through the eye of the needle, her stitching was a mess. But it’s okay. As bad as she was at homemaking, I was even worse at hunting. I could catch almost anything in a trap, but I wasn’t so good with the _killing_ part. I got caught a few times trying to free the poor things.”

“Bet your teachers loved that,” Dagur said dryly. Honestly he couldn’t be surprised. It was impractical to spare prey animals, but oddly sweet; and he could understand why Tuff would be someone who would do that.

As they walked, Dagur noticed his presence was working in Tuff’s favor;  nobody was coming over to harass them and a few people even smiled back at his greetings - usually after giving Dagur a big-eyed wary look.

“Yep, even freed a wolf one time. I just couldn’t kill her, not when she was looking at me with those noble, sad, golden eyes. I mean, what if she had cubs to feed? I explained all that, but it was still considered shameful. No matter how many beatings or lectures I got, I just couldn't make myself do it. I mean, I couldn’t even kill a chicken.”

One word in particular stood out and froze the blood in his veins.

“Beatings?” Dagur heard himself growl. “Your teachers beat you too?” He stopped and turned, looking Tuff over critically. His nose was straight, didn’t look like it had ever been broken. But what about places covered by clothing?

Dagur reached out to turn his companion around, putting a hand beneath his tunic and thoughtlessly pulling it up past his shoulder blades. Tuff froze, but said nothing, eyes wide. He didn't protest, seemingly too shocked to think of what to say.

The boy was skinny, for starters. His wool vest hid most of his sharp angles, but what concerned Dagur at the moment were the pale lines disrupting the skin on his back, starting from the shoulders down to the indent of his lower back. They carried on below his waistline.

Fury made him want to yell, but instead Dagur took a calming breath and traced a couple lines that stood out, pale and white against tanned freckled skin. They went horizontally, across the back of his neck to just above his lower back.  “How long ago was this?” he demanded.

"W-Well, that one? I was about eleven - look, it’s okay, it wasn't so bad. I just got used to it; I was always getting into trouble. Once for stealing food, another for stealing money," Tuff shrugged. "I’m no angel. Let’s see, another time a teacher caught me sneaking Ruff a pastry outside of the classroom. Oh and I hit one of our cousins for shoving Ruff - oh, that one was several teachers actually.”

"Several teachers?! For one kid?"

"Eh, it was a formal thing. I had to be tied down to a table and each one of them took a turn at it. Their lecturing was way worse than the beating, those guys just going on and on about family and honor and good behavior -"

Tuff was obviously playing it down, but there was a light tremble to his voice that indicated this was not a particularly fond memory.

Saying nothing, Dagur's hand moved to another injury, what looked like shallow trenches over the curve of both hips that continued below the waistline of Tuff's leggings. He traced them lightly until the tips of his fingers reached fabric, not daring to invade any further. “This one?” he asked, regardless. It looked worse healed than the other ones.

Tuffnut shivered, and his breath picked up sharply. "That was for refusing to kill a chicken. She stopped laying eggs and I didn't get to the coop early enough one morning to sneak some in her nest. I was ordered to chop her head off, and when I refused . . ."

Dagur felt the faint shudder beneath his palm. It made him want to punch something.

"They whipped me until I picked up the axe - then they held the chicken down and tried to make me finish it, but I just couldn't. Finally someone else killed her, but I had to lay there and watch. And afterwards they thrashed me again for crying."

Dagur could tell from his voice that the last part of that ordeal had hurt the worst. “So how often did they tie you down, what did they use, and who exactly did it? I _just_ want to talk.”

"Uh. Well, they used a variety of things - I needed to be tied down for their own safety, I think. Can't have me kicking and biting, right? I was known as one of the unruly kids, I could really do some damage if I bit hard enough. Besides, I couldn't let Ruff get it, so I just took the blame usually."

Tuffnut was rationalizing it, as though it was normal. Dagur's stomach sank.

"It's not a big deal, really. I healed up just fine. Doesn't everyone get punished when they're kids?"

"Boynut, they _left scars_!" Dagur exclaimed, and something in his voice, made Tuff turn and look up at him. For a moment, his eyes filled up as if he was going break down and admit how it had made him feel, being treated worse than a disobedient dog, but he gave Dagur a watery smile instead.

"I just tell people they're dragon scars. It's okay. Nobody beats me anymore, now that I'm nineteen. And I'm a Thorston, so I'm part of the clan. They have to have a huge meeting and convict me for something if they ever want to lay hands on me again. I'm safe now. Ruff and I are totally safe." Tuff's voice cracked slightly on that last word.

Dagur took a deep calming breath and let it out slowly, putting his hands on Tuff's shoulders. It wasn't good enough that they didn't beat him anymore; they never should have done it in the first place. "If that ever changes, you let me know right away. Please."

Before Tuff could reply, there was a distant squeal. “Is that Bjorn boar?” he queried, seeming to recognize it.

The trickster was gone in the next second, slipping out of Dagur’s grip and running towards the source of the noise.

By the time Dagur caught up, Tuffnut was petting a huge bristly boar penned in the farthest corner of the yard, currently  drinking from the trough. Tuff patted Bjorn's big flanks fondly, watching them jiggle. He seemed completely fine; giving Dagur a quick friendly grin as the man approached.

“He's been putting on weight since I last saw him! Bjorn, don’t let Ruffnut see you like that, or you'll have to go through some toning exercises. You remember how much you hated leg lifts, don’t you?”

The boar snorted and stopped drinking to nuzzle Tuff’s hands, whuffing gently as he sniffed the blond’s hair and face. Tuffnut laughed in delight while Dagur looked uneasily around. Why was this boar the only one in the pen?

“So they’re - uh - fattening him up, are they?” he asked uncomfortably.

“Not sure why they would. Bjorn is breeding stock, not food stock. He’s got too much lean muscle to make good . . .” Tuff caught himself, and whispered behind Dagur’s hand very quietly. “Bacon.”

“Why did you whisper the word b-”

Tuff yelped and put his hands over Dagur’s mouth. “Careful! One must _never_ say the b-word in front of Bjorn. He’ll go bonkers.”

“What-”

“Insane, completely nuts. Off the heezy. Whatever a heezy is, I don’t think it’s a good to go off.”

“Boynut, I get it,” Dagur sighed, pushing Tuff’s hand down. “I won’t say it. So where’s this Pit you’re supposed to be at?”

Tuff looked up at him and then straight to his right, through a stone arch leading to a staircase heading down. It was dark and the air coming out smelled of blood. Distant shouts were eerily distorted by echoes bouncing back to them.

“Wow, sounds fun,” the Berserker deadpanned. “Is it often in use?”

“Not usually,” Tuffnut answered. He took a deep sniff and regretted it, covering his nose. “Oh. They must be doing an Induction Trial for someone. Sometimes it’s how many boars you can take out at once. Poor things.”

“More than one?!” Dagur yelped. His stomach twisted. Shrewdspiel hadn’t answered him earlier; what if there was more than one boar attacking Tuff in that Pit? If they were the size of Bjorn, Boynut wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Oh don’t worry, this Trial won’t be anything like our Induction Trials. Ruff and I had to fight off Speed Stingers, Changewings, and a Titanwing Zippleback. And then we had to do even more after that when Agnut showed up with the real challenges!  That was . . . a very exhausting day.”

Dagur stared at him a long moment, then threw up his hands. “ _Um_ ? _How_ are you alive?!”

“I’m never entirely sure. We’d better head down there.” Tuff gave the stairs a distasteful look but before he could start down, Dagur gripped his shoulders and made him turn around to face him.

“You’re going to be okay no matter what,” he said firmly. It almost sounded like he was giving Tuff an order.

Tuffnut smiled up at him. “Don’t worry so much, Dagur! Ruff and I made friends with nearly all the boars here. They would never hurt us.”

Not entirely calmed by that, Dagur took a deep breath. He made himself nod and let him go. “Okay. If you’re _that_ sure you got this. Lead on, Boynut.”

Together, into the darkness they went. When they came through the entrance, the underground arena was lit up a nightmarish red with burning coals in braziers. Several people were seated on the raised seats, making the place look like a coliseum.

In the middle of the seats was a pit, ten feet deep and with a circumference of twelve. It was tight turning quarters and the red spattered sand didn’t do much to reassure him of his friend’s safety. Dagur resisted the urge to grab Tuffnut’s arm and run off with him - Trials and Elders be damned.

Slowly, they approached the Elders, who were seated at a table above the pit.

“Well, now that you’re here, I see no reason we can’t begin!” Shrewdspiel, grinned. “It’s too bad your sister isn’t here to watch. I think she’d love this.”

Tuff’s eyebrows furrowed, but he shrugged it off. “I'll tell her about it later. What are the rules, Grandma?”

She pursed her lips and it took a moment for Dagur to realize she didn’t like it when Tuff called her that. He scowled, and bit his lip against the comments he dearly wanted to make.

“For the Trial of Beast, you must fight your opponent until it can no longer attack you. You may choose one weapon.” She gestured to a rack where weapons were hung up. “Choose carefully, because it’s the only weapon you get for the whole Trial. You can’t choose a second one.”

Tuffnut walked over and inspected the rack. Dagur gave the woman a calculating look and went after him to see what was offered.

As he’d feared, the weapons were secondhand at best and nearly at their life’s end. There was a cracked mace, a bow with string so loose you could pluck out tune on it, daggers as dull as wood and an axe with a broken handle that had been bound tightly with cloth to keep it together. It was an utter disgrace.

Tuff looked over his options carefully and chose the bow and arrow, which wasn’t half bad considering it could be fixed. He strung it better, working quickly and Shrewdspiel raised her hand, signalling the Trial to begin.

“Wait, give him a second!” Dagur yelled at her. She regarded him coolly.

“Your highness, please move out of harm’s way, for the good of Berk’s alliance with you.”

Dagur stayed put. “It just hit me. You haven’t answered the question we put forth to you, that you’re required to answer. What is he fighting?” He absently searched the area for Filbert, but he was strangely absent. Damn. They could use his legal advice right about now.

“You’ll have your answer in moments.”

Frigid old bat! Dagur snarled, about to tell her off, but Tuff reached over and squeezed his bicep. “It’s okay, _mon ami_. You gave me enough time. I can do this.”

Dagur made a frustrated noise under his breath, but nodded, feeling a strange flush come over his face. Was that French? He could swear Tuff had just spoken French.

Shaking his head clear, he walked up the narrow steps to seat himself across from the Elders, pensively watching the proceedings.

“Start!” cried Shrewdspiel, mouth stretched out into a ghastly smile. A grate in the wall slid open, emitting an unsettling screech.

Tuff balanced lightly on his toes as a red-eyed hulking figure in the doorway gave a blood curdling shriek. It charged forward, easily eight hundred pounds of bristled fury. As it charged, he danced out of the way, whirling and letting the boar crash into the wall.

It rebounded and charged him again, but this time Tuffnut stood still, eyes wide in dismay.

“Boynut!” Dagur shouted in warning, but too late; it scooped him up and tossed the blond up, making him flail for a moment before twisting catlike to land on all fours. Tuff barely had time to throw himself out of the way as sharp hooves nearly trampled his body.

“Bjorn!” he yelped, sounding distraught. “Wait!”

What? That was Bjorn?! Dagur had just seen him; the same boar had been placid and friendly not five minutes ago! Now it was a raging, frothing, beast - hellbent on destroying anyone in its path.

Tuff flattened himself against the wall, another narrow miss, and tracked the mad boar unsteadily with the arrow, hands shaking and eyes wide with confused horror.

“Ah, yes. Bjorn will make such a lovely feast for your sister’s wedding, won’t he? Smoked whole pig, stuffed with harvest apples, cloves and orange rind, in a cream sauce. I’m sure everyone will be talking about it.”

If Shrewdspiel was attempting to twist the knife further into Tuff’s heart, she couldn’t have picked a better sentence. Devastation flashed over Tuff’s face, such that he fumbled the arrow and mis-timed his dodge. Once more he was flung into the air, tusk scraping across his side.

This time Tuff crash landed hard on his back, moaning, as Bjorn whirled and started to run back towards him.

Dagur leapt to his feet. “Boynut!” he yelled, heartsick. The rest of the crowd seemed unconcerned, half of them cheering the boar on. He wanted to scream at them, to hit them until they fell silent. A rage was building up in him that he furiously tried to tamp down, not wanting to lose control.

Much to his relief, the boy moved quickly enough, successfully scrambling to roll out of Bjorn’s way.

The boar was foaming at the mouth, shaking its head from side to side as it turned again, trying to ram him. Tuff moved out of reach and nocked an arrow, firing it to land in front of Bjorn. The boar squealed and chose a different direction.

Tuff did it several more times, casting Bjorn into a frenzied confusion before his tactic became clear. He ran toward where Bjorn had been herded next, half running up the wall to flip and land squarely on the furious boar’s back.

Immediately, the boar started to buck and jump, trying to throw him off. Tuff dug his fingers into Bjorn’s coarse mane, riding him out. Dagur sucked in a horrified breath as the heavy boar rolled over him, but tenaciously Tuffnut held on, like a stubborn flea on a dog. He leaned forward, nearly flat against Bjorn’s back, searching for something.

There was a strange outline on the boar’s head; a dark thin object shoved into the corners of the boar’s mouth. Tuff reached down and yanked one out swiftly, sending blood welling up to spill over Bjorn’s lips.

What on Midgard . . . .?! It looked like a tiny blade made of obsidian, and the next time Bjorn roared, Dagur could see the wound showing in the boar’s soft gums.

Tuff had some trouble getting to the other side, but he won the blade free, seconds before Bjorn finally managed to toss him up and kick him squarely in the stomach. The impact sent Tuff flying backwards to slam against the wall.

He landed on his side and groaned, curling over his abdomen, as Bjorn charged once again.

Dagur stood up, prepared to jump down and yank him out of harm’s way. However moments before impact, Bjorn stopped cold. He snorted and stepped calmly closer, grunting and whuffing gently across Tuff’s form, as if to check whether he was dead.

Dizzy and pained, Tuff sat up, and put a palm on Bjorn’s snout, letting the boar help lift him to his feet. Dagur sighed thankfully, sitting back down hard.

“Well?” Shrewdspiel asked, once boy and beast were at a standstill. “Aren’t you going to finish the Trial?”

Tuffnut looked up at her, but his defiance had been replaced with sorrow. Unsurprisingly, she ignored his distress.  “But . . . he won’t attack me now,” Tuffnut said brittle, tears streaking his face.

“It doesn't matter whether he won’t attack you, it matters that he can attack you,” she sniffed. Tuff hitched, eyes wet, and stepped away from Bjorn, turning to him and spreading his arms.

“Bjorn, attack me!” he shouted unevenly. “Go on, attack!”

Bjorn looked at him and huffed. Instead of attacking Tuff, he walked in a circle and sat down, hooves neatly tucked beneath himself.

The woman frowned sharply. “Tuffnut Thorston, that is still not the requirements of passing this Trial. Kill that boar or you forfeit.”

“But he won’t -” Tuff started to argue, voice strangled with horror.

“No! You will not bend the rules again, you horrid little spawn of Loki!” Shrewdspiel shouted, making him flinch and let out a sob. Tuff covered his mouth, shaking as the woman continued her unexpected tirade.

“This time you won't be permitted to make a mockery of our laws and traditions! You kill that boar for your sister’s wedding, and you can move on to the next Trial - which you will also fail without being able to cheat!” Her voice was mocking, cruel. A horribly triumphant smile stretched across her face as Tuff bit back a sob.

"Your sister _will_ be married to who we've chosen, and that boar _will_ be on the dinner table, whether slaughtered by your hand or someone else's!"

Crying openly, Tuff moved over to Bjorn, petting his snout and trying to comfort the upset boar. Though Bjorn looked afraid, he nuzzled Tuff’s hands with his snout, as if to console him.

“Please, not Bjorn," Tuffnut pleaded once more, trying again to appeal the decision. "If you want me to kill a boar, I can - I can kill one raised for meat stock! But I _can’t_ kill Bjorn, he’s been here since we were just kids, he's our friend -”

“Nonsense. He's just a boar. You have to get used to slaughtering someday, if you want to be a useful part of this family,” Uncle Horsemouth sighed. “Listen to your grandmother or forfeit.”

“Ruff would never want to eat Bjorn! You want her to cry the whole time at her wedding? That won’t be something worth remembering no matter how deliciously you cook him!” He cried out, and the wild grief in Tuffnut’s voice seared Dagur’s heart.

“You show a lack of maturity by continuing to argue with my decision! Are you saying a boar is more important than your own sister? More important than your Elders? You’re a whining, pathetic weakling, and it's time for you to man up, Tuffnut Thorston. Now do as you’re told, slit that boar's throat, and show me you're someone worth listening to. Show me you can be good enough to be a Thorston!"

"I - I can't - " Tuff hitched and put his arms around Bjorn's neck, sinking to his knees. Shrewdspiel grinned.

"Then forfeit, and remove yourself from the Pit. Someone else shall have the honor of slitting this beast's throat across the sand."

Tuffnut gave a low sob and clung tighter to Bjorn. There was the sound of boots hitting the ground, and Dagur was suddenly by his side, hands gripping Tuff’s shoulders and pulling him up to his feet. The boy gulped in a sob, starting to protest, but Dagur wasn't there to take Shrewdspiel's side.

“I, Dagur, Chief of Berserkers and King of Caldera Cay, forbid this boar from being killed!” he shouted, in a voice that commanded respect.

The eyes of the Elders and various spectators turned to him, murmuring and grumbling amongst themselves. “For what reason, your highness?” Nostril finally asked.

“That boar is obviously prime _breeding_ stock,” Dagur answered. “He’d make a terrible feast for a wedding! All stringy and tough - blech! If you want to rid yourselves of this boar so badly, I’d much rather make the Thorston Clan a handsome offer of gold in exchange for this excellent beast - to take back to Berserker Island and breed with my own herd of sows.”

That got a reaction. Many in the crowd applauded. Apparently gold was more welcome than spite, just as much as everywhere else.

The Elders looked to each other, talking quickly in hushed tones.

“How much would you consider buying him for?” Grinder called back. Shrewdspiel started clamoring in protest, but this time Grinder held up a hand for silence, shocking the old woman. “Can it, sister. We need gold and I’m not letting an opportunity like this get away!”

Thank Thor for good old fashioned greed.

“Five hundred gold,” Dagur stated, well used to haggling. It wasn’t a bad price, enough to let them know he was no fool.

“One thousand,” Grinder counter offered. “That’s barely over one gold a pound, you can’t get a better deal at the meat market.”

“I’m not buying him for meat. He’ll be fed well in order to breed, and it’ll cost me extra for his feeding. Six hundred.”  

They went on like this until the final price was eight hundred and fifty gold pieces. A couple of handlers came in and yoked Bjorn, leading the once again passive boar out of the pit. The price was a little on the high side, but Shrewdspiel was spitting mad and Tuff and Bjorn were safe.

“Done! So, since Bjorn can no longer attack Tuffnut because he’s been bought and led away, I guess that means he passed the Trial. Isn't that right?” Dagur asked sharply.

Before anyone could answer, Shrewdspiel took control again. “We’ll vote among us,” she snarled, staring down her sister and brother in law. Uncle Horsemouth was scowling at Grinder. Surprisingly however, he raised his hand along with her and her husband, meaning Tuff could move on to the final Trial.

Dagur watched with deep satisfaction as Shrewdspiel’s face went blotchy with rage. She pressed her lips into a thin white line.

“Congratulations are in order, Tuffnut. By some miracle, you now have only the Trial of Blood ahead of you. Rest until sundown tomorrow. You will need every bit of it.”

She bit out each word as though she was cursing his very existence, staring daggers at him. It was strange, how afraid she looked, almost to the point of being unhinged.

More importantly, Dagur could hear the pain she was trying to inflict on his friend to punish him for winning. Tuff looked up at her and then away, pale and irreconcilably crushed.

That was enough; there was no need to stay here a moment longer - save for one thing. “What does the third Trial entail?” Dagur asked, tone cold.

“It’s simple enough for even a fool to understand. You will fight an opponent with no weapons. When the first drop of your enemy’s blood hits the ground, you pass. Lose a drop of your own to the ground first, you fail. Is that enough information, dear, or do you need it written down?”

Gods above, this harpy was going to get a boot to replace her teeth if she kept putting Tuffnut down like this. He didn’t bother with niceties, just grabbing Tuff and pulling him out of the Pit, making him walk away from her. Her voice carried on after them, mocking and shrill with both fright and triumph.  

Beside him, Tuffnut flinched and covered his eyes with shaking hands. Dagur’s heart twisted in sorrow at his friend’s heartwrenching position. He moved closer to him and Tuff didn’t pull away, turning to face his friend.

“Thank you,” he said lowly through his teeth. “For saving Bjorn.”

He was shaking, grey eyes fixed on the floor and shining too brightly. The Berserker swallowed, faintly worrying whether he’d done something wrong by interfering. “Are you okay?”

The male twin looked up at Dagur and said nothing, but a look was all Dagur needed to understand.

“Oh,” he winced. Tuffnut took a step forward and wrapped his arms around the Berserker, hiding his face in Dagur’s shoulder. Dagur held onto him, resting his chin over the top of Tuff’s head.

He felt Tuff hitch again and attempt to pull back, but Dagur didn’t let him out of the hug just yet. “Let’s get you home and see how bad your injuries are, okay?”

When he felt Tuff nod, Dagur put a friendly arm around his friend’s shoulders, leading him toward the stairs. They walked up in silence, silent tears streaking Tuff’s face. Dagur didn’t mention anything about them, even though he wanted to.

He gave Tuffnut’s shoulder a squeeze. “You were awesome in there,” he tried. “You knew what to do to get Bjorn calmed down.”

“It wasn’t enough,” the boy croaked, almost inaudibly.

“Beg pardon? My right ear’s a bit deaf from all the dragon shrieks I’ve encountered.”

“I wasn’t enough - I didn’t do it right. If it wasn’t for you . . .” Tuff fell silent but looked up at him. “I don’t know what’s going to happen anymore. I didn’t know how much Grandma  _hated_ me or that she wants to hurt both of us this badly. If I'd gotten Bjorn killed, it would have broken her heart.”

Dagur paused and then turned to face him. “Boynut, you didn't do anything. They were going to try and kill him to hurt you. That's not your fault."

"It is though, if they liked me - if I was likable, they never would have targeted him! But they targeted him because of me!" Tuff got out. He let out a painful sob and buried his face again. "If I'd just been good enough to begin with, he never would have been considered for a feast!"

"Boynut . . ." Dagur reached out his arms again, grateful when Tuff didn't push him away. He gladly accepted the embrace, leaning into the comfort hungrily. It sent a spike of something through the Berserker, anger mixed with warmth. Tuffnut shouldn't be this starved for affection, and yet he couldn't help but be selfishly glad Boynut was accepting it from him so openly.

"You know . . . what I actually wanted to do was jump across that Pit and punch every single one of that old woman’s teeth out. That’s how Thor would’ve handled this. But as strong and deadly as I am - “ He flexed his biceps, showing off. Tuffnut glanced up and smirked fondly, for just a moment losing his heartbroken expression.

“You and your sister were right all along: it often pays to think like _Loki_. I learned a lot from fighting Hiccup over the years, but you guys are the ones that taught me that little bit of wisdom.” Dagur grinned at him, giving him a warm look. “Keep your head up. I think you’re doing amazing. You can do this, Tuff, and I will be right there beside you whenever you -”

“Tuffnut! Thank heavens, you aren’t hurt!” Filbert was running down the stairs toward them, eyes wild and hair uncombed so that it floated about his head like a static cloud. “There’s trouble!”

“What kind of trouble -” Dagur started, but Tuff moved forward, beating him to the punch.

“My sister?” Tuff asked, gripping his pendant. The Berserker could hear his heart start to pound.

Filbert shook his head. “Taken. Madge was with her, they were going to fit Ruffnut for her dress, she said, but Ygla was ambushed and someone was laying in wait for both women. Scoundrel! He took her off to Thor knows where, and left your poor mother senseless on the ground!”

“Who was he?!” Tuff snarled, taking his uncle by the shoulders and nearly shaking him. “Where did it happen? By the docks? Did they take her by dragon or sea!?”

“By sea - Bucket just told me an unfamiliar boat departed at the same time Madge came around to tell the news, and it was heading North. The brute left quite a bruise on your mother's temple, but Gothi is tending to her now -”

Tuff bolted past Filbert, sending the man nearly spinning, but Dagur helped right him. “Stay with Madge, Filbert. I need to go with Tuff.”

Scarcely had he finished saying that, Dagur took off running after Tuffnut, taking the stairs two at a time. He caught up swiftly, whistling sharply.

Within seconds, Sleuther was swooping over them both, readily waiting for Dagur to hop aboard. He swung himself up and leaned down for Tuff, who saw and reached out for him.

Grabbing the boy’s arm and hauling him up took seconds, and then they were flying as fast as they could toward the harbor and beyond, heading North.


	7. The Storm

It didn’t take very long to find the boat, a small affair with a painted helmet on the  sail. It looked weirdly familiar and Dagur groaned when he recognized the man on board. Tuff remained silent, looking frostily down.

With a thud, Sleuther boarded their boat, letting Tuffnut and Dagur jump off the dragon’s back.

“Savage, really. Now you’re a kidnapping fiend? Pick a thing you’re good at, man,” Dagur tsked, walking across the deck toward the man.

“At least I’m good at not being a goody two-shoes,” Savage sneered and picked up his mace.

Before he could attack Dagur, a crate sailed over the Berserker’s shoulder hitting Savage square in the chin. He yelled, cursing and holding his face. “Leave off! I don’t have her any more, already passed her off!”

Tuff snarled a curse at him and jumped down into the hold. Dagur could hear him down below, tearing the place apart in search of Ruffnut.

“So, who paid you to do this?” Dagur asked. “Let me guess. Old woman, face as pleasant as a dog’s rear end?”

“She only paid half. The rest of it is waiting for me in port, compliments of a hide merchant, named Redgrove. Top of his trade, paid quite a lot of money for me to secure his bride,” Savage grumbled. “Though honestly, I think he could have done better kidnapping Hiccup’s girl. That pretty blond with the axe.”

“Who did you pass her off to and what direction did they take?”

“Ha, like I’m going to just tell you -”

“Where is she?!” Tuff yelled, emerging from the hold. He slammed bodily into Savage, pinning him down with a strength he had seldom exhibited before. There was a wild rage in his eyes and he nearly snapped the man’s wrists, pinning them up backwards against his shoulder blades in a painful hold.

“Aaah! Ahh, easy!” Savage yelped, squirming. “What are you doing?!”

“Glad you asked! I call this move the ‘funky chicken’. Cause in a moment, you’re going to do a little dance,” Tuff said, grinning darkly. His pupils had shrunk to pin points, and his eyes were the same color as the approaching thunderheads above. “Hey Dagur, want to see me make him dance?” He tightened his hold abruptly, making Savage yowl and kick his feet.

Dagur was watching, eyes wide and face just a bit on the warm side. He had nothing intelligent or useful to say to that, mostly because Tuff managing to wrestle down someone bigger and far meaner was _doing things_ to his brain.

"Yep," the Berserker chief nodded uselessly, as Savage squirmed like a worm on a hook. It did the man absolutely no good; Tuff's grip was like iron.

The dragon rider let out a feral growl and knelt on Savage's upper back, forcing his face to the deck. "Answer us! Who took my sister from your ship? Where is this Redgrove jerk!?"

“I don't know!" the man squalled. "I don’t know anything about Redgrove, his men just told me where my money would be and they took her west, with the trade winds! Little less than an hour ago - you’ll never catch them with your dragons before the storm hits!”

As if to underline his claim, the sky boomed, not nearly far away enough to avoid the lightning it would bring.

“Then we’ll go after them in _your_ stupid ship, and I’ll tie you to the figurehead like some sad little wooden puppet!” Tuffnut snarled, putting yet more pressure on his wrists and straining the man’s arms. Savage howled in protest, again kicking his feet, as always far less menacing when the chips were no longer in his favor.

“Please, I told you everything I know! Let me go, I don’t want to dance anymore! This is embarrassing!”

Dagur snorted and shook his head. Savage had sucked up to him until showing his true colors, proving himself a traitor. He didn't have much pity for a traitor, let alone a sister-nabbing creep. He knelt to Savage's level, smirking.

“Mmm hmm. Kind of stings your pride a bit - doesn’t it, old buddy? Not as much as this will.” Dagur drew back his fist.

“Aw, no -” Savage whimpered and then collapsed against the deck shortly, out cold and nose bleeding.

Tuffnut let the man's limp body go and stood up, panting. “We have to head west, Dagur. As soon as -” An earsplitting clap made him turn to look up at the storm. Rain began pelting down on them, soon in sheets thick enough to obscure the horizon. “No, no, Ruff-” he moaned, looking around wildly.

He knelt and tried to go through Savage’s pockets. “Lodestone, he’s got to have a lodestone. We can figure out what direction we’re going even through the storm -”

“Tuff,” Dagur spoke his name gently. His heart was pounding with fear for Ruff, but he knew her brother had to see the truth; there was just no getting through this storm. Not on dragon, not by boat, not unless the Gods themselves would grant a miracle.

Finding no lodestone or any other navigational tool, Tuffnut gave up searching and curled over, digging his fingernails into his thighs. The force of the rain hitting the water had raised an impenetrable fog around the ship. They were going to have to rely completely on Sleuther to even get back to Berk.

Now Dagur knew why Shrewdspiel had lost control of her mouth - she hadn’t expected Tuff to win the second Trial. She had set this entire thing up - making sure Ruff was grabbed ahead of time, so there wasn’t even a chance to go rogue and rescue his sister from the unwanted marriage.

Heartsick, Tuffnut sobbed out an apology to his sister, repeating it frantically until Dagur knelt in the rain, putting his hands on Tuff's shoulders and shaking him out of it gently. Tuff quieted, gasping and shivering. He was drenched to the skin.

Lightning cracked the sky in half and wind whipped at both of them like a scourge, chafing their skin with the violence of hurled water and debris.

Dagur had to get them all out of here, now. At the Berserker's gesture, Sleuther snatched Savage up in his talons and allowed his human to put Tuff in the saddle and climb up after him.

He was breathing too quickly, drawing in shallow panicked breaths with his face buried in his hands. Dagur hesitated, then wrapped his arms around Tuffnut, hugging him from behind. To his surprise, Tuff all but melted into him, leaning back into his arms.

“We’ll find her, Tuff, don’t worry,” Dagur promised over the wind. “Let’s go find Madge, she might know where they’ve taken her. Worse come to worse, we still have the guy’s name. We will find Ruff and bring her home.”

Tuff only nodded miserably, face still buried in his hands. Shielding him as best as he could, Dagur leaned forward in the saddle and Sleuther took off, carrying them all toward home and shelter.

*******

The storm carried on inland, sending branches flying against shutters, making cattle low in distress and sending Terrors and cats alike to seek shelter indoors.

After dropping Savage off at Berk's jail to sleep it off, Dagur and Tuff silently flew to the Twins’ home.

Filbert had put on a kettle and was applying a paste of mugwort to Madge’s face, where a club had caught her across her temple. She wasn’t concerned with her own injuries in the least; rather looking in worry at her son, who was curled on his side with his head resting in Dagur’s lap. Tuff's arms were wrapped tightly around the man's thigh, limiting his range of motion just a bit, but Dagur made no complaint.

The man had pulled up Tuff’s tunic and was grinding some herbs into a paste - comfrey, arnica, slippery elm - using a bit of oil and honey as a binder.

Dagur scooped out the paste and spread it over Tuff’s gashes and darkening bruises, letting him lay still and quiet. His silence was worrying, but understandable. Thanks to Shrewdspiel, Tuff and Ruff were worse off than before - both physically and mentally. Nobody even knew whether Ruffnut was safe, or even alive. Dagur knew by experience that not knowing was a horrible feeling.

He wasn’t aware Madge was closely watching him tend to her son until she cleared her throat. “You certainly know your way with herbs,” she said lightly. “How did you learn the craft?”

The Berserker looked up at her bruised face and gentle expression, and then back down. He felt as though he’d failed the entire family, even though he knew this had caught them all off guard.

“I learned from my mom. Before Heather was born,” he answered. Dagur was focused on the slow rise and fall of Tuff’s chest. He almost would have thought the boy was sleeping, except Tuff’s eyes were open, half lidded. Without thinking, the Berserker brushed his fingers along Tuff’s hair, stroking his scalp lightly. "She knew a lot about plants and remedies. Loved to read. Heather's a lot like her actually."

“You have skill and a healer’s touch, as well as your mother must have had. Thank you for taking such good care of my boy. You bring him so much comfort.”

“I doubt that,” Dagur said, fidgeting. He looked at Tuff, wondering where the boy’s mind was that he wasn’t responding to being talked about. He was responding to touch though, arching slightly under Dagur's hand and attempting to curl closer.

“Look at him. I’ve never seen him take consolation from anyone who wasn’t me or his sister. If you weren’t here, he’d be out in that storm right now, and no doubt the worse for it. You’ve gotten him to lay down and rest."

Madge’s voice was shaky from losing her daughter and her hands trembled, but she was doing a good job at appearing brave - for the sake of her son. "So. What happened at the boar fight?”

Hesitant at first, Dagur told her everything. He didn’t recount Shrewdspiel’s hateful words, but he pointed out how stunned she had been at him passing the second Trial.

“I see. So this entire thing - up to Ruff’s disappearance - it was all planned. Shrewdspiel can’t afford for Tuffnut to win.”

“Madge, I don’t understand what you could have possibly done to have all this pain directed at you guys. It’s insidious and evil and I just want to know - why? Is there an actual reason or is the entire Thorston clan just crazy?”

Madge bit her lip but before she could answer, Tuff lifted his head a bit. “Told you. It’s my fault.”

She gasped and Dagur looked down at him. “Tuff, none of this is your fault. They want you to think that, but it's wrong."

"No, no it's not - I messed everything up, I should have just let myself get burned on the first Trial, then maybe they would have been satisfied and they would have left Ruff and Bjorn alone -"

Dagur drew in a sharp breath and wrapped his arms around Tuffnut. "Don't say that, please. What would you do if the Elders were doing all of this to one of your younger cousins? Another boy or girl? Would you let them?"

That actually gave Tuff pause. He swallowed. "But . . . but they wouldn't have deserved it."

"You _don't_ deserve this! Neither you or Ruff or anyone deserves being treated this way! Why do you think so?"

“Because I wasn’t supposed to be born!" Tuff got out, voice strangled. There was a shocked silence at his outburst, allowing him to continue. "I wasn't expected or wanted - and I created a burden on Mom and Dad and the family, because they had to keep us both alive with only one of everything! The family couldn't afford it - both of us lived anyway, but I can't hunt, I can't do anything but fly dragons with Hiccup and the others, and I - I'm not even useful there! All I do is try to keep everyone happy and cheered up, even when things get impossible - that's all I can really do! Most of the time I - I just annoy everyone, I even annoy Ruffnut! The family can't do anything with me because I'm useless; nobody would pay for me even as a thrall!"

Tuff's throat closed and he couldn't say anything more, just hiding his face against Dagur's leg and hitching. This hadn't come from internal thoughts; it was clearly something he'd been told - multiple times.

Madge was pale. She got off her chair and moved closer to him until she was nearly right over him, hovering as though a touch might shatter her son.

“Tuff,” she said, unable to bear his thoughts. “Tuffnut, boyo, don’t you _ever_ think you weren’t wanted or that you're useless! I wanted both of you with all my heart and soul and I loved you even before you first opened your eyes in my arms. None of this is either of your faults, and had I known what they were telling you I would have set the story straight years ago.”

Tuffnut looked up at her, going quiet as she caressed his tear-streaked face. "Wh-What? What are you talking about?" he got out.

She took a breath and sat up a little straighter. “I didn’t want to marry Hardsell, even though my parents needed me to. I was eighteen, and I was selfish, and . . . I already had a sweetheart.”

“ . . . a sweetheart?” Tuff parroted back, not understanding.

“Yes. His name was Bragi Helmsmith. We were going to run away together and elope. He was to find a place we could hide out together and send me a message to join him, but he never did. Spring arrived, I had no idea where Bragi was. Then Shrewdspiel and Horsemouth approached me, bringing me news that my love was dead, carried off by a dragon. I was already pregnant with the two of you, a disgrace. They had me marry Hardsell anyway, though I prayed against it. It wasn’t as though I had a choice; you two would need a clan, a father, a good home.

“The timing was close enough that you could have been my new husband’s bairns, but the Elders didn’t try very hard to keep it secret from the rest of the Clan. All three of us were the outliers after that, subject to gossip and shunned. My husband appeared unbothered, saying I was too ugly for him anyway. Too tall, too bulky, too strong. I sprinkled water on you both, held you on my knee and named you. I used all my strength to bear his and Shrewdspiel’s ill will towards me, but they soon learned what broke me down most was when they were cruel to the both of you. Every time you two were yourselves, you were punished - all to punish me. I’m sorry I was so careless. I’m sorry I kept it from you. Now, because of me, you will suffer too.”

Tuff was quiet but after a long moment, he reached out and lightly tugged one of his mother’s woven braids.

“Hey, Mom? You don't ever have to be sorry. Ruff and I love being your family,” he croaked, managing a smile.

Dagur breathed out slowly, unable to keep from smiling himself at the tender moment between mother and son. The man she had mentioned did sound familiar however. He could have sworn he’d heard that name before.

Tuff slowly sat up, pulling his tunic down with a wince. “What do we do now? If I win the final Trial, will Shrewdspiel have to get Ruffnut back? Or should I just be out there looking for her?”

“I know several people who could be out there looking for her - who are not injured and exhausted,” Dagur said, thinking of Hiccup. “Your friends will do it in a heartbeat if you just tell them what happened.”

The blond was already shaking his head. "They'll just tell me to obey my Elders, and that it's my fault Ruff had to get taken like this because we both challenged their authority -"

Dagur put a hand under his chin and made him look up. “Hey. I know my brother is famous for his Hiccupy lectures, but he's going to be with you on this one. I can't imagine any of you riders turning your backs on each other. The real problem seems to be that you just don't think you're worth their time right now. Is that true?"

That left a visible mark. Tuffnut winced and hid his face behind his hair, eyes stinging. There was no audible answer, but he didn't deny it. Dagur's rough fingers caressed his cheek, tucking a few strands behind Tuff's ear.

"Well, you _are_ worth it. I know you’ve taken a lot of beatings in the ‘people who are supposed to love you’ department, and right now it’s easy to believe nobody cares and that you have to do this on your own. My sister was the same way, never asking for help because she thought she didn't deserve it. But your friends do care. It's true they may need some prodding to get their listening ears on, but trust them to want to help you. I bet you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Tuff had raised his head, looking at Dagur in a way he’d never looked at him before. Eventually he smiled, leaning slightly into the other man's touch. “Okay, Dagur.”

Dagur rewarded him with a gentle smile. “Good. I’ll be by your side the whole way, alright? Who do you want to go see first?”

Tuff thought about it for only a moment. “Astrid. I know she’ll help, for Ruffnut's sake. She’ll also twist the arms off anyone who thinks of saying no.”

The Berserker grinned fondly. “There we go. Get your Loki on.”

Filbert coughed. “While you do that, I will find out more about the third Trial. Sudden urgent business ‘conveniently’ kept me away from the second one, but it won’t happen again. They’re going to play dirty for this last one, I can feel it. If I catch them at it, I can make them forfeit. Then they’ll have to tell us where our dear girl is.”

“Okay. For Ruff's sake, we should get started talking to the others now,” Tuff asked, trying to stand up. He swayed a bit and Dagur put his hands on his waist to keep him from falling.

“Easy, Boynut. I know taking it slow isn’t what you want to do right now, but you need to save your strength for that fight. They aren’t giving you nearly enough time to rest between Trials.”

The man stood up, hands carefully lingering to make sure Tuff was steady on his feet.

“I know, but that’s the point. I don’t get to win, or rest, or be happy - because I’m not theirs.” He bit his lip. “Is it weird that it doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore?”

“Probably,” Dagur shrugged. “But it might also be a good thing.”

Tuff looked at him for a long searching moment and Dagur felt his heart flutter. The boy ducked his head, smiling strangely - giving it yet another reason to do funny loops in his chest. Dagur actually liked the little quirks and oddities of Tuff's character - so much more than he thought he ever would.

All at once he felt a rush of - something. Severe protectiveness, he could perhaps call it? Dagur felt like wrapping him up in a giant hug and never letting him go.

He huffed at himself and made his hands let go of Tuff’s hips, abashedly wondering how they’d gotten there in the first place.

*******

Ruffnut fumed, sitting in her stupid dress, in the stupid cabin her captors had thrown her in. It wasn’t entirely bad, just boring now that the fright had worn off.

They had been very careful not to bruise her face, but her wrists hurt from being tied behind her back and she had to pee. Not for the first time, she kicked at the shut door. “Hey!” Ruff yelled. “What’s a lady got to do to get some room service in here?!”

It was half an hour before the door opened, and a bald man with two hooks for hands peered in. “Would you keep it down? Amos is trying to take his nap!”

“Oh no, I woke the precious little baby Amos?” Ruff gasped in mock horror. “Heavens to Heimdall, _no_!” Her face went flat. “You tell that obnoxious little toad to get off his hamhocks and bring me my dinner! And a bucket!”

Berthel scowled at her. “You’re not being very ladylike, miss,” he scolded. “It’s rude to give orders, even though your future husband is a very powerful man . . .”

“Really now? How powerful exactly?” Ruff asked, changing her tune.

“Oh, well he’s a very rich man. A trader in fine hides. He was very specific we get you to him unharmed.”

“Unharmed? Well, I am certainly not unharmed!” Ruffnut yelled. “You just wait until my future husband hears what you’ve done. I bet he rips your tongue out of your skull for not feeding me properly! You want me to tell him you starved me?!”

“Of-of course not!” Berthel quavered, losing ground quickly under this new onslaught. “But you can’t ask me to cook, that’s woman’s work!”

Ruff hooked a second chair with her boot and gripped it between her legs, sending it flying at Berthel. He yelped and shut the door, letting it crash against the wood. A moment later he stuck his head in again.

“Food will be ready in just a moment,” he simpered, trying to placate her mood. “I do hope you like halibut with potatoes.”

Huh. Now that was more like it.

“And untie me for goodness sake! Do you want my hands to fall off? How will I do any work for my husband then? How will I mend his pants? Do you want him to run out of pants!?” she demanded accusingly.

Ruffnut couldn’t believe her luck; Berthel nearly tripped over himself hurrying to undo her bonds. “Now Miss, I pray you keep very quiet. Amos can be a bit testy if he’s woken up from his nap unexpectedly.”

She stood up, brushing her hands off. Now, she had to figure out a way to get to a different island and make her way back home. If Tuff was taking the Trials, it was likely he was in some big trouble. Ruffnut felt a twinge of guilt for how she’d treated him; none of this had been his fault. It hadn’t really been anyone’s fault - and from what her mother had told her, Tuff was running himself into the ground trying to fix it.

Ruff wanted to simultaneously hug him and squeeze the life out of his bones. But first, she had to get back to Berk.

“So, Berthel,” she cooed. “Do you have any charts? I feel as though I can be nice and quiet for a good long time if I was reading navigational charts.”

Berthel’s face lit right up. “Oh, aye. We have charts with directions to find Mr. Redgrove’s port! They’re all right here!”

He pulled them out of a desk and unrolled them across the surface. Ruffnut leaned in, grinning to herself. When Berthel excused himself and went back onto the deck, she rummaged around in the desk drawer, looking for ink.

This was going to be like taking silicates from a baby Gronckle.


	8. Trial by Blood

“-- sorry for not being there for you guys,” Hiccup was saying, in that gentle voice of his. "I thought it was just another crazy story. If we'd known . . ."

"Eh, it's fine. I am full of crazy stories - even I don't know which ones to believe."

Tuff's mask had gone up immediately, almost in defense - as soon as Astrid had first yanked off her pinned wedding dress and asked him who she needed to kill. She'd seen the same vulnerability Dagur saw, all because he'd been too tired to fake it for five seconds.

He nodded as Hiccup went on, unable to really focus on the apology but taking comfort at the care evident in his friend's voice. Every nerve in Tuff's body was wound up to fight for his sister's life in the last Trial, even as they shrieked in exhaustion and pain.

It didn't help that his brain was chewing over everything his mother had told him.

The news that he wasn't a Thorston would have devastated him a year ago. Both Twins had worked their whole lives to be good enough to be part of the clan. It was all they had been allowed to hope for, to work for. And now? Now it just seemed like a huge waste of time.

"I had no idea everything was so awful for both of you," Astrid was saying. Her hand was on his shoulder and Tuff found himself giving her one of his default sunny grins.

"It's okay, A. Could have been worse - I mean, we both survived to nineteen, right?"

Astrid blinked and Tuff felt a flash of regret. Yeah, that silver lining didn't sound so impressive, but what else could he say? Now that everyone seemed to be worried for him, Tuff felt the sudden need to downplay his distress and reassure them.

Logically it made no sense to; his friends were here of their own free will, saddled up and ready to go find his sister - wherever she had been taken. He had faith in all of them, more than he had in his own worn thin body.

Hiccup reached over and pulled Tuff into a half-embrace.

"It's going to be okay. We _will_ find her, Tuff. Just finish those Trials to the best of your ability and don't get hurt." Hiccup left him to get on Toothless, and the others chimed in their own well wishes, and Tuff felt his stomach squirm as though he was being ordered to not fail. 

Just as he was starting to feel overwhelmed, Dagur's hands rested on his shoulders. "Tuff and I can handle things here, brother. You and that Night Fury better break some flying records."

Tuffnut relaxed somewhat - feeling less pressure at those words.

Dagur had done a fair share of the talking. His presence and serious expression had given the others pause to listen to Tuff - to really listen. Everything Tuff said, the Berserker had validated completely - sometimes going off on how completely crazy and unfair the Twins' entire clan was.

He had watched face after face go from skeptical to mildly concerned to wide-eyed with horror, and as good as it felt to be believed for once, Tuff also felt a bit of uncertainty and fear.

He wasn’t a Thorston. Neither was his sister. They were fatherless, clanless. Where that set them socially on Berk, Tuffnut had no idea. Would their friends treat them differently? Not one of them had turned down the request for help - that was worth something, wasn't it?

"I'll be okay, H,” Tuff heard himself say. “Please find my sister. I’ll deal with the Trials.”

Hiccup nodded, and then Astrid moved forward to pull Tuff into a tight hug.

“Keep your footing no matter what you do,” she advised him, mouth next to his ear. “Try to make your opponent lose their balance. You’re very fast and sneaky, so use that to your full advantage. You got this, Tuffnut.”

She sounded very confident in him. Tuff gulped and bent his head to receive a kiss to his forehead.

Snotlout immediately raised his voice in protest. “Hey! Where’s my kiss?”

“Earn it,” Astrid shrugged, walking purposefully over to Stormfly.

"Whatever. Anyway, you can do this, buddy! We’ll kick some ass and be back with Ruff before you know it,” Snotlout put in, getting on Hookfang. The Monstrous Nightmare made a soft rumble, affirming his human's words.

Tuff's next words were cut off along with his air supply, as Fishlegs picked him up in a bear hug. “That’s right, don’t you worry about a thing. Probability of finding your sister is a plus twenty -”

“Yes, fine, we get it - would you all just GO ALREADY?!” Dagur yelled, apparently short on patience. Tuff felt immediate relief that Dagur had said it; it meant _he_ didn’t have to. He was inches away from collapsing into a nervous pile as it was.

His friends took off on their dragons, and together he and Dagur watched them turn into distant specks against a gray sky.

The final Trial was in less than a day, less than twelve hours between him and . . . whoever he was fighting. He turned around, startled to find himself nose to nose with the Berserker.

“Oh,” Tuff murmured, stepping back and feeling his balance waver. Dagur’s hands pulled him back to safety, steadying him.

“When have you last eaten?” Dagur demanded.

“Breakfast,” Tuff muttered, face coloring. He couldn’t fathom the energy it took to eat right now. “I think I’ll puke if I try now.”

The Berserker paused and nodded, not letting go of Tuff’s waist. After a long while, he spoke up. “So, I uh . . . found out about Bragi Helmsmith. He's the son of Annachie Helmsmith. Grew up on Berserker Island, and just moved back a couple years ago, to take care of his ill father. Never got married. I sent Heather a message and she confirmed it.”

He left the subject wide open, free for Tuff to ignore or address.

Normally at such news, tears would spring to Tuff’s eyes, but he was too tired to shed any more tears. They didn't have to pass any Trials to belong to that family, did they? “You should tell Mom. She’ll be so happy, she'll probably want to see him, and yeah, I’d like to meet him too,” he answered. “If he wants to. Did Heather ask him if he wanted to?”

“I can't imagine how he wouldn't, but I sent back a reply and we’ll see what he says."

Tuff sighed shakily, grateful Dagur was being honest instead of showering him with baseless optimism. "If he does, then I . . . that would be great. I think."

Dagur regarded him with worry. "What do you want to do then if you’re not hungry? Do you need to sleep more?”

Tuffnut swallowed hard, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He moved forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Dagur and holding onto him. “I want you," he murmured shakily, hiding his face against the other man's shoulder.

“Uh . . . oh.” Dagur said faintly. He was blushing red, but he didn’t seem able to let go of Tuff either. “You mean you just want to be hugged for a while? Not that there's anything wrong with that.”

“I want to be near _you_ ,” Tuffnut blurted, unthinkingly. “When I’m with you for some reason, things just feel like they’re going to turn out okay." He didn't like how watery he sounded, so Tuff cleared his throat and tried to smile. "No pressure or anything."

The Berserker reached up and toyed with a strand of Tuffnut’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. “Weirdly enough, Boynut, I sort of feel the same around you lately. Wanting to be near you, I mean. All the time. My heart was broken. I didn’t feel like I was worth anything. The way you talk to me and look at me makes me feel . . . I don’t know what I’m trying to say exactly. Welcome? Appreciated? Good enough?”

“All of the above?” Tuff asked, managing a cheeky grin. “You are though. You're welcome here, I appreciate everything you've said and done. And you're good enough - especially for me. I like everything I know about you . . . and I want to know even more.”

Dagur felt blood rush to his head and gave a sheepish laugh. “Y-Yeah? You do?”

“Yeah,” Tuff suddenly couldn't look him in the eye, aware of how close their faces were. He could swear he felt the heat of Dagur’s blush against his own skin. "I want to know all your stories. What it was like growing up for you. What you sing when nobody's around. Whether you had any pets . . . I'm sorry everything's been so focused on just me and my sister. I mean, your heart was broken - and you were still kind enough to see through your pain and help me."

Dagur reached up to stroke Tuff’s face unthinkingly and after a moment, pulled his hand away. Tuff caught it and threaded their fingers together, then stared at what he’d done, uncertain what to do next.

After a moment, a beard tickled his lips and Dagur's warm mouth pressed against his.

His heart leapt wildly. Tuff leaned into the kiss, returning it with cautious enthusiasm. He could feel his pulse fluttering with sudden new, almost frightening energy.

If there was one good thing to come out of any of this, it would be Dagur.

He pulled himself closer to the man, fingers tangling in red hair to tug - pointlessly but insistently. The Berserker moaned against his mouth and nudged up Tuff’s chin to kiss at his throat, nipping gently, questioningly.

“Please,” Tuffnut breathed, face burning pleasantly. He leaned his head back and let Dagur have full access, allowing the man to pull him closer. Soft lips and lightly scraping teeth left a trail down to his collar, making Tuff shiver and gasp. After a moment, Dagur pulled back and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Want to go back to your room?” the Berserker offered, almost sheepishly.

“Kiss me like that again, and you can take me anywhere you want,” Tuff managed, sounding dazed. He had no idea why this had just happened, but he wanted more of it. So much more. He’d never thought about being in a relationship as much as his friends had seemed to, figuring what the Elders had said was true - that he was too worthless to find anyone .

But he wasn’t _theirs_. And Tuff had found someone - he’d found Dagur, who didn't think he was worthless at all.

Dagur smiled at him widely, looking more like a giant puppy than a seasoned warrior.

It filled every corner of Tuffnut’s heart with affection. How could anyone have ever given this guy up? How could they have _hurt_ him? Mala was crazy, had to be. Though he supposed he should send a thank you note; she hadn't been nearly as murderous a bride as he'd feared she'd be.

He squeezed the Berserker’s hand, fingers still laced together, and tugged him gently back towards the house. With no hesitation, Dagur followed.

*****

The house was empty when they got there, Madge having left a note that she was going to inform Gothi of what had happened. By some way or another, the news was going to get to Stoick - so she had determined. Filbert had likewise departed, likely to further research the rules of the Trials. Hardsell, to the surprise of no-one, was asleep.

It left both young men largely to their own devices, and though Dagur wanted nothing more than to throw Tuff over his shoulder and carry him upstairs, he knew that would probably hurt given Tuffnut's injuries.

They moved upstairs together silently, without letting go of each other's hands - as though this were a dream and they would be separated upon waking.

Tuff shut and locked the door and turned to Dagur swiftly, all but knocking him onto the bed. For a few awkward moments they clumsily made out in the dark, bumping knees and noses and dissolving into nervous snickering. Eventually, Tuffnut found a candle and lit it, much to Dagur's appreciation; it seemed to enhance the mood somewhat. He opened his arms and smiled as the trickster eagerly climbed into his embrace, kissing his mouth and tangling long fingers in Dagur's hair.

Both went down on the bed, Tuff laying across Dagur's body in such a way that there was no mistaking he was into this plan. Dagur could feel him shivering with cold and exhaustion even as Tuffnut again captured his lips with his own, darting a tongue between them.

"T-Tuff?!" Dagur hitched, startled but amused.

"Pardon my French," he joked sheepishly. For some reason that was funnier than it should have been, causing Dagur to burst out laughing. Tuff just grinned, looking more flattered than upset, and began peppering his face with soft kisses.

Eventually, Dagur worked up the nerve to make the first overture, peeling up Tuff's tunic and helping him shed it along with his vest. His movements were stiff but together they got the garments off him, and then Tuff started poking and prodding at Dagur's chestplate, trying to find the catches in the low light.

With some help from each other, they stripped down and Dagur felt Tuff gasp shakily at the feel of skin to skin as they wrapped themselves up in each other on the narrow bed.

Dagur had to admit, this felt amazing - not just because he was touch-starved himself, but because he felt equal here. Tuff wasn't stand-offish or condescending, and he ran his fingers over Dagur's skin, just as eager to make them both feel good.

They were out of breath and a little wild-eyed after a few minutes of gentle touches. Everywhere Tuff's fingers went Dagur's skin felt alive and re-energized. Likewise, he loved every sharp intake of breath, every gasping whimper he could draw from Tuff's body as his calloused fingertips stroked his throat, then down his chest and stomach.

Dagur enjoyed the sounds immensely, though he wasn't entirely sure how to get to where they were going next. Tuff answered his unspoken question, picking up the man's hand and sucking on two of Dagur's fingers, slicking them with his tongue. Though red tinged his cheeks and the tips of his ears, Tuff didn't look away from Dagur's eyes while he did it.

That was . . . oh Thor. The Berserker made a weak noise. "Um. Have you uh, done this before?"

"Nope. But it's not like people don't talk a whole lot about it. Especially during the winter when there's not much else for the adults to do. H-Have you?”

"A couple times, yeah.” He stroked Tuff's sides, able to feel the edges of old scars. "Just do what you feel comfortable with, okay? Take it easy. You can be on top this time if you want to."

"I am on top of you." Tuff couldn't seem to resist splitting hairs. It was technically true; he was straddling Dagur's waist while the other man was laying on his back, gripping Tuffnut's hips. "I want to try it with you inside me first. I mean, I like the idea."

Random worries flitted through Dagur's mind. Hopefully Tuff wasn't just doing what he thought Dagur wanted him to do-  but then he lightly rubbed the head of Dagur's cock, making him arch and gasp. Protest forgotten, he stroked Tuff's lower back and wrapped his arms around the blond's waist, pressing his fingertips gently against his entrance.

Dagur made every effort to stretch him slowly, watching as Tuff's expression grew mildly uncomfortable and strained. "Take it slow,” he coaxed. "Push back."

Tuff took a couple breaths and obeyed, immediately hitching at the new sensation.

"Oh, Loki - Please, please - " His voice cut off on a soft whimper as the Berserker obliged him, seeking a spot he knew would be there. His reward was Tuff's expression and noises when he found it, stroking it lovingly.

Nobody had ever made that face because of him, not even when he did exactly as Mala directed. Thank the Gods she hadn't been the only sexual experience he'd ever had in his life.

Tuff looked down at him half-lidded, panting hard and eyes full of affection. He leaned down to kiss Dagur, shifting his hips away from the other’s hand until he was poised over Dagur's erection.

The trickster rested his fingertips lightly across Dagur's chest and started to sink down on it, whimpering breathlessly. Dagur put steadying hands on the blond's waist, not pushing but ready to help him pull away if needed.

"Go slow," he cautioned, watching Tuff's face carefully for signs of pain. Amazingly, Tuffnut took him inside with little trouble and remained still for a long moment, panting and shivering, eyes squeezed shut.

"Are you okay?" Dagur asked, stroking Tuff's face.

"Yes," he squeaked. "Very much definitely okay. I didn't think - oh Loki - this is -"

Getting a mischievous idea, Dagur lazily rolled his hips, giving a light thrust up into Tuff and breaking his words off into a unintelligible wail.

Neat.

Biting his lip in glee, Dagur did it again and again, pleased when Tuffnut kept making noises- all of them good. Not that this didn't feel completely mindblowing on his end; Tuff felt warm and alive around him, and when he started panting Dagur's name? That was good - very good.

Before long, even the Berserker wasn't entirely in control of his motions, their bodies moving for them and striving for the same frantic goal.

Tuff's mewls and whimpers soon turned into a breathless scream that sent a jolt through Dagur and made him that much more determined to satisfy him.

They came within moments of each other. Tuff arching his back and finding just enough of his voice to keen the Berserker's name was what personally got Dagur to the end.

For a few long minutes afterwards, they lay against each other, collapsed and panting in contentment until Dagur helped Tuff lift himself free. The trickster nestled against his side, wrapping him in a warm embrace that was impossible not to return.

"You good?" Dagur heard himself murmur, still not quite back to reality yet.

"Yeah. You? Will you be here when I wake up? I'm . . . honestly about to pass out." Tuffnut looked it, barely able to keep his eyes open, though it wasn't for lack of trying. He reached up to stroke Dagur's face, breath hitching as Dagur moved closer to kiss his cheek and lips and the bridge of his nose. It sent Tuff into a fit of trembling and he pressed closer, returning kisses and further tangling them up together.

"I will not leave your side," Dagur promised. "No matter what happens. I'm yours."

A distant memory assailed him, one from their childhood; Tuff joking around, pretending to be one of his Berserkers. It had all been to free the Skrill, but the boy had been very persuasive - eager, even.

"Are you mine?" Dagur asked, tone soft.

"I'm yours too." Tuffnut pressed as close as he could to the man.

Smiling, Dagur wrapped the blankets around them both and watched him lose the battle against exhaustion. When Tuff's breath evened out, he blew out the candle next to the bed and fell asleep holding him close. 

*****

Daylight came relentlessly, but when Tuff opened his eyes to soreness and dread, his heart was lifted by a ripping snore directly aimed at his ear.

"Dagur?" he whispered, and scarcely had to repeat it louder before Dagur opened his eyes, murmuring nonsensically.

The man blinked at him and grinned, which again sent Tuff's heart into whirls. He pounced without thinking, kissing Dagur fully and making the man lose his balance, falling off the bed with a startled yelp.

Unfortunately, since both were tangled by blankets as well as limbs, Tuff was dragged off after him to land on Dagur's chest. The man let out a solid _whumph_ of air and coughed dryly.

They blinked at each other and Dagur started laughing breathlessly, not upset in the least. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Tuff grinned, heart as light as a feather despite everything. "Just had to make sure it wasn't a dream."

His body hurt down to the bones, his breath tasted like it could kill a dragon, and he was . . . starving actually. It was early afternoon - the last Trial wouldn't start until sundown, but that left them only a few hours to get themselves fed, bathed, and dressed.

For the first time since all of this began, Tuffnut found himself confident he could do this. He squirmed his hips on top of Dagur, delighting in making the Berserker's skin flush red and in the fact that the man's adorable grin only got wider.

"How do you feel about some boiled eggs and a hot bath?" Tuff asked.

Of course the answer was yes.

Madge and Filbert had not returned, but the Twins' mother had left a basket of foodstuffs in the kitchen containing more than boiled eggs. There were apples, nuts, honeycomb, carrots, yak jerky, unleavened bread - and also a sharp note to Dagur to make sure the _both of them_ ate well.

The morning was weirdly domestic - both of them took the basket to the bathhouse, tiptoeing around a passed-out drunk Hardsell. Together they pumped the water for the bath and dropped heated stones into the large wooden tub until the temperature was pleasingly hot. Dagur threw water across the hot stones in the braziers, causing steam to billow into the room and warm the air.

Tuff actually had an appetite, eating as much as Dagur insisted he eat.

Despite that, he hadn't forgotten his sister. He gripped his pendant several times during their meal, clearly worried about Ruff. Each time, Dagur touched him in return, immediately soothing his fears and allowing him to focus on taking care of himself.

This last Trial was going to be grueling, but his body was responding fairly well to food, warmth, and Dagur's loving caresses.

Before he knew it, sundown was less than an hour away. They reluctantly got dressed and drained the tub, splashing some cold water across the stones and wood to rinse them.

"You ready?" Dagur asked softly. "It'll be okay, you know. No matter what they throw at you, you're one of mine. And you will be for as long as you want to be."

Tuff offered him an adoring grin. "Is forever an option?"

The floored look on Dagur's face broke into a grin after a moment and he pulled Tuff closer to wrap him up in a warm embrace.

* * * * *

Once again the Trials were held within the fortress-like clan holding. A spot had been cleared in the courtyard, and there was a large circle, eight feet in diameter that had been circled with stones.

The Elders were seated at the table, and this time Filbert was with them. He was glaring daggers at Shrewdspiel when they arrived, but gave Tuffnut and Dagur tight smiles when he spotted them approaching - alone together.

More of the Thorstons had gathered around the ring to watch, spectators had apparently flocked to witness this last fight after being told of the boy's impressive fight with Bjorn in the lower rings. He looked around at them, seeing Agnut, Leadfoot and their two kids. Tallownut and Candlenut began hopping up and down when they saw Tuff, waving excitedly. It brought a smile to his face, making him feel a little less outnumbered.

“Tuffnut Thorston, how nice to see you,” Shrewdspiel greeted warmly. It was almost enough to make Tuff stop in his tracks. That tone was very different from earlier; when she’d been talking to him like he was a meaningless insect. It was still the opposite of caring, however he didn’t rise to the bait. He knew better now - the difference between real affection and false pretense.

“I’m ready to take the last Trial,” he stated. “Remember - I win this, and you call off Ruffnut’s marriage to the dragon hunter.”

Just as he hoped, several shocked gasps and loud talking nearly overcame the Elder’s attempts at controlling the situation.

“My goodness,” Grinder exclaimed, looking around nervously. “What on earth are you talking about? Nobody on Berk would marry a dragon hunter!”

“Really? So is that why you had Ruffnut kidnapped and taken off the island?” Tuffnut asked. He was sparing them no rod, and based on the reactions the rest of the Thorstons were giving, and Shrewdspiel's panic-stricken expression, it was clear the Elders had wanted to keep this sordid deal hushed up.

“Why would we ever take dragon hunter money!?” Leadfoot's cousin Belltoll shouted angrily.

“Why would you shame the family crest, by making the lass marry one of Berk’s sworn enemies!?” growled Uncle Madcap.

Volleys of questions burst forth, and Tuff didn’t bat an eyelash as the Elders hurried to explain, and soothe, and rationalize.

“Enough!” Shrewdspiel yelled over the din. “We have a Trial to start! Longreach Thorston, come forward!”

The man grinned, black hair long and beaded like Tuff’s, with a furrowed brow and eyes that had never seemed friendly. “Hi, whelp. Ready to bleed?” He slapped Tuff on the back as he passed him. Tuffnut winced as the blow caused his gash to sting anew, but straightened up.

Smirking, Longreach raised his hand to Shrewdspiel and she gifted him with a dagger, gleaming black and silver.

“Wait, you said no weapons!” Dagur protested.

“I said Tuffnut couldn’t use a weapon. Did I ever say whether or not his opponent could?”

“WHAT?! You cheating, oath-breaking, shriveled up bag of sow tits! If a single hair on his head gets so much as bent, I will _personally_ throw you into the nearest volcano!” Dagur exploded, losing his temper.

He had made utterly no attempt to be diplomatic or kingly, and the mortified look on the old woman’s face was priceless. Especially with the way her mouth was opening and closing, like an out of water fish.

Tuffnut didn’t bother scolding him, just smiling fondly at the man’s tirade.

“She’s unfortunately found a loophole I can’t overcome,” Filbert admitted. “But Tuffnut, listen - you can steal your opponent’s weapon and use it, or disarm him and throw it outside the ring.”

Longreach had already begun to circle him, before the Trial had started. Dagur bristled, keeping a tight perimeter between himself and the fighting area.

Tuff never once showed Longreach his back as he also moved, both men facing each other. A bit shakily, Shrewdspiel called for the match to begin.

Scarcely had she spoken, the taller man lunged forward, slashing the knife at Tuffnut’s face. He ducked, losing a few strands of hair and went for Longreach’s feet, kicking them out from under him.

With a shout, Longreach went down and Tuff jumped onto the arm holding the knife, trying to wrestle it away from him. They rolled around for a moment, Longreach easily besting him and slamming Tuff’s back to the ground, fingers tight around his throat.

Choking, Tuff grabbed for the man’s wrist, just barely keeping the blade point from jamming into his shoulder. He needed all his strength to do it at this angle and he could feel his grip slipping.

“You know this entire thing is pointless, right? Gran made you both a good offer. Who else would marry that ugly troll you call a sister? Redgrove will make a good woman out of her.”

Tuff grit his teeth, eyes flaring. He adjusted his grip, forcing Longreach’s hand back slowly, and then snapping the man’s wrist back. He yelled and pulled himself off Tuff, foolishly pouncing on the knife as it skittered out of reach.

Tuffnut scrambled to his feet, and attempted to jump on his back, only for the taller man to whirl, slicing the air where he’d just been. It nicked Tuffnut’s arm, sending droplets of blood spraying out.

Shouting in triumph, Longreach pointed after the drops, however Tuff moved swiftly, spinning and catching them in his palm before they hit the ground. They stained his skin bright red and Tuff smeared four red lines across his left eye, copying Dagur’s tattoo - all the while circling Longreach with the grace of a wolf.

Tuffnut knew who he was now. He knew _what_ he was.

Longreach tried to pounce again, but Tuff moved out of reach and lunged, opening his mouth as if to bite him. His teeth clacked on air, but it was a narrow miss. Longreach yelped, actually putting a distance between them. He no longer looked confident, baring his own teeth in a nervous smile and glancing around for a break among the pressing spectators.

Dagur grinned, thrilled as he watched. He was still worried for Tuff’s safety, but the dragon rider was psyching this guy out hardcore, and it was _freaking awesome_.

With the blood marks across his eye, Tuff looked feral, untamed, out of control, as wild as a Berserker could look. And he hadn’t even given Tuffnut a tip; he was doing it all on his own! Dagur felt immeasurably proud.

Longreach gathered his nerve and stabbed at him again, but this time Tuff whirled out of the way, slamming his boot into the man’s back and sending him sprawling. Tuff flattened him, again wrestling over ownership of the knife. This time he managed to yank it away and flung it far outside the circle, to the cheers of the onlookers.

For once they were cheering for Tuff instead of against him, apparently not wanting the Elder’s decision for Ruff to win out either. It didn’t completely excuse them for not stepping up for the Twins earlier, but it was a nice start.

“You’re nothing!” Longreach spat, elbowing Tuff in the face. He stumbled back, lip cut and swelling. Tuff sucked on it to keep the blood in his mouth as Longreach got up. No sooner was the man on his feet than he lunged for Tuffnut, who ducked under his arm and mule kicked him in the back of the knee. Longreach stumbled, went down, and scrambled back up.

“Even if you win, your cheating bitch mother will have to give you up to those collectors! And your sister is gone already. Redgrove’s already deflowered her, I’ve no doubt.”

“Shut up,” Tuff warned him quietly. “About my mother and sister. You aren’t fit to speak of them.”

Tuffnut was carrying himself differently now, Dagur noticed. Even Longreach and Shrewdspiel could sense it. She was watching with a sense of mystified dread and as for Longreach - he looked ready to bolt for the hills, now that his cruelty wasn’t putting any visible dents in Tuffnut’s armor. His eyes shifted, trying to find a new venue of attack. Such was always the way with bullies.

“Wh-Who do you think you are, talking like that, huh? Everyone knows your mother’s a whore! You could be anyone’s whelp. Maybe you’re actually Snotlout’s sister? You do like sewing and cooking, don’t you?”

There was a long sigh. “Wow. Well, I’m bored. Why don't we all take ten for a bit of meditation? Anyone? Just me then, I guess.”

Tuff sat down in the middle of the ring, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, making his palms rest open on his knees. People started murmuring, confused at what he was doing.

Dagur tilted his head. Meditation? At a time like this? The worry from earlier was replaced with curiosity, however. He didn’t shout for Tuff to move or get up, just watching and feeling time stand still.

There was no doubt - his man knew what he was doing.

Longreach laughed uproariously and lunged at him, seeking to bodyslam Tuff flat onto the ground. Instead, Tuff reached up and grabbed the man’s wrists, then shoved the sole of his boot against the taller man’s stomach. He moved devastatingly fast, back flat against the earth, using his new leverage like a seesaw to slam Longreach’s face into the courtyard stones.

An uncomfortably wet crunch resounded through the courtyard, making the spectators groan and recoil a bit. Tuff let go of the man’s wrists, letting him fall head over heels to collapse like a puppet with its strings cut. Tuffnut got to his feet and turned, looking calmly down at his groaning opponent.

As Longreach rolled onto his back, clutching at his gushing nose, he revealed a gleaming patch of blood and one half of a broken tooth smeared across the stones.

There was silence for only half a second, and then Dagur let out a bloodcurdling whoop of victory that sent the people directly in front of him scattering like blown leaves. He raced into the circle, picking Tuff up and hugging him.

Agnut, Leadfoot, and Filbert all raced in, joining the hug and all but crushing Tuff against Dagur, and lifting him off his feet.

Grinder sighed and nudged her husband, and they both scowled at Shrewdspiel. “Well, I’m certainly not going to tell Redgrove the news.”

“There is no news! That brat cheated - he didn’t tell anyone how strong he got! I would have picked a better challenger - this is - this doesn’t count!” she yelled back, clearly distraught.

“Hey, uh, lady who used to be our Grandma?” Tuff chided. “Chill out. You can always take Hardsell back, he’s right where he’s been for the past ten years.”

“You impertinent disrespectful brat!” Shrewdspiel looked beside herself with fear. Something weird was going on - it couldn’t be this important for Tuff to lose the Trials just because of blood ties. “I call a vote now, all of you! Who thinks this cheating whelp deserves to pass?”

Nobody raised their hand, but mostly because they were bewildered why it was even up for a vote.

She didn’t recognize that and grinned horribly, triumphant. “Who doesn’t think he won fairly?” She raised her hand with such force that it hit ‘Grandfather Ashes’, sending the urn to wobbling dangerously. As she realized her error, Shrewdspiel turned screaming to try and catch it, seconds too late.

The urn fell off its perch and exploded across the ground in a plume of ash dust and broken crockery. When the dust settled, there was a ledger and a decorated piece of metal laying among the soft white ash. Tuff approached it curiously.

“Don’t touch it!” the old woman screamed at him, trying to get down from her seat so she could push curious onlookers away.

He ignored her and picked up the piece of metal, seeing a wrought iron bluebird skillfully etched into the worn old belt buckle. The ledger, when opened, showed lots of red lines, with the initials ‘Rd.Grv.” next to each amount circled in red.

“What’s all this?” Filbert asked, taking the ledger and looking through it. Tuffnut let him, more interested in the metal which he curiously turned over in his hands. The runes for Bragi’s name were etched beneath a message, promising undying love and a will to stay by her side always.

Shrewdspiel lunged for the ledger in Filbert’s hands, but Madcap stuck his foot out and tripped her, making her fall flat on her face across the ashes.

“Well, wouldn’t you know it. Seems like when harvests and boar breeding goes bad, you took to borrowing money from a certain dragon hide merchant, named Redgrove. You paid him in old dragon hides at first, but by then you found you needed him to keep up clan appearances and repairs. Oh and then he cut you off. I take it that’s where Ruffnut’s bride price came in?” Filbert said.

“And why you were in such a hurry to pay off Gruffnut’s debts by selling Tuff,” Dagur put in.

Tuff looked up. “Wait, what?”

“She had it all worked out, along with them.” Dagur gestured to Grinder, Horsemouth, and Nostril, who looked chagrined.

“It’s not our fault! She’s the one who borrowed all that money, and she lied to us about how much in debt we were!” Grinder protested. “We had to do it for the clan!”

Tuffnut was only half listening, unconcerned with any of their excuses. He looked back at the etching and felt arms wrapped around him from behind, picking him up in a bear hug. He yelped in surprise but turned around in delight, hugging Dagur back tightly.

“You did it! You were so amazing!” the Berserker shouted. He immediately kissed Tuff who’s eyes widened, still not used to affection being initiated on him. He was a fast learner though.

Tuff’s lips curved into a smile and he took Dagur’s face in his hands, kissing back just as eagerly.

Voices immediately above them interrupted their reunion.

“What the Thor . . .?”

“Uh. Wow, okay, that’s new - “ Fishlegs said, sounding lost.

“Did I just see that?! Tell me I didn’t just see that!”

Tuffnut scarcely had time to turn around before great wings blew across the courtyard, allowing the dragon riders to land. Ruff jumped off Stormfly and ran to pounce on both Tuff and Dagur, sending them to the ground laughing.

“Are we really just ignoring that?!” Snotlout demanded, motioning to Tuff and Dagur, currently laying under Ruff with all three of them laughing and hugging. Hiccup shrugged, looking equally bewildered, but Astrid just laughed, whooping out a cheer for them both.

Once the commotion had died down a little, Filbert took the ledger while Hiccup and Spitelout escorted Shrewdspiel to Stoick’s hut. She was grim faced and pale, and Tuffnut almost felt a bit sorry for her. Stoick was definitely going to bawl her out within an inch of her life for what she’d just tried to pull; settling her personal debts with the lives of the Twins.

“How did they find you so fast?” Dagur was asking Ruff.

“It wasn’t hard, really. I actually wound up marking a completely different path on the charts. I also changed the direction of the rudder whenever they were busy arguing about what to cook for dinner. Those poor fools were sailing around in circles for hours before Hiccup caught up to them. I was alright - mostly bored and hungry. That Berthel guy can’t cook any better than I can.”

Tuff grinned at her and Ruff grabbed his face, headbutting him lovingly. “ _You_ ! You silly, stupid, wonderful ass - why didn’t you _tell me_ about the Trials? I wouldn’t have let you go through all that alone, bro. I’m sorry I threw such a big pity party.”

“You didn’t even invite me,” Tuff sniffed, pretending to be hurt. Dagur ruined it by bursting out laughing.

Tuffnut grinned at him and then looked at his Twin, holding up the piece of metal. “So uh. By the way? I think Dagur and I are dating.”

“Yeah, I think I figured that one out when you two mashed faces in front of everyone.”

“Also? We actually might be Berserkers instead of Thorstons.”

“Cool,” Ruff beamed. She paused a moment, blinking. “Wait, seriously?”


	9. Epilogue

Stoick had done more than just bawl Shrewdspiel out. He personally saw to it that she and all the others were ‘retired’ from their posts on the High Council, squeezing Thorston officials here and there to make it happen. He couldn’t directly interfere with clan law, but he could dabble just enough to make irrevocable changes concerning who was in charge.

A whole new board of Elders was elected by the clan that spring, and Filbert wasted no time encouraging them to use the writings of Featherpen as a more progressive structure for their laws.

Shrewdspiel had done so much worse than borrowing money from an enemy; she’d nearly permanently separated the Twins and she’d intercepted the symbol Bragi had sent to Madge and lied about his death, forcing the woman to marry her son Hardsell, as planned. At the time she hadn’t known for sure that Madge was pregnant with Bradi’s children, but when she found out, she’d been livid.

As it stood, once Madge saw the message Bragi had etched himself in metal, she took up Dagur’s offer to visit the Helmsmith home on Berserker Island. Then she dissolved the marriage between herself and Hardsell, with Chief Stoick’s blessing.

After several visits and long talks, Madge made the decision to move in and marry Bragi just as the winter began to thaw. The Thorston household was busy that morning, the Twins helping Madge pack up her things and deciding what to take or leave behind.

It was debatable whether Hardsell even noticed she was leaving. He snored on oblivously, as Tuff and Ruff packed up the living room around him, muttering the occasional insult as they bumped into him or made noise.

Stoick had taken the Twins aside weeks ago, letting them know they would always have a home on Berk. “Had I been aware, I would have ended this much earlier. I’m sorry. I want to always be there for both of you. Now.” He took both Ruff and Tuff’s hands in his own bigger ones. “Go meet your father with no fear. And say hello to Dagur and Heather for me.”

“I’ll definitely say hello to Dagur for you, Chief,” Tuff said, grinning impishly. “But I think he’ll be confused if I say that was from you.” Ruff burst out cackling and punched her brother in the shoulder.

Stoick laughed and gave him a half hearted swat to the head. “Go, you ravens. And come back to stay often. Berk’s not the same without you.”

Tuffnut had hung back with Dagur when Madge beckoned Ruff forward to meet Bragi. The man was tall, slender, with gold hair and a quick smile. His blue eyes were kind and full of humor. 

He had whittled gifts for them both on their first visit. Ruffnut was given long hairpins and a hummingbird clasp made of Loki tree wood. She gasped over the gifts, delighted.

Dagur pressed his shoulder against Tuff’s warmly. “Go on, say hi. I would never let anyone who’d hurt you live here.”

He offered his Berserker a smile and nodded, hesitantly approaching the man who was supposedly his father. Tuff knew almost at once, as soon as those eyes met his, that Bragi was a kindred spirit, as close as one could ever hope a father to be. The man put a carved raven pendant in Tuff’s hand and an ornate dagger with an antler handle. “I hope you like them.” 

Tuffnut took a moment to compare their hands, noticing his father’s long fingers matched his own. It made sense; of course he’d be an artist.

“Thanks,” he muttered, feeling weirdly touched. His own gift. It had been a long time since he’d received his own gift from a family member that wasn’t his mother. “These are really cool. Maybe someday I can show you some needlepoint?”

Bragi smiled warmly. “I’d like that.”

Tuff, for lack of what to say, started to put the raven pendant on, sighing in relief as he felt Dagur approach him. His fingers took the cords of the pendant and tied it behind Tuff’s neck, as he attempted some small talk. “So, Bragi, how’s that new kiln coming along?”

“Not bad, Chief. A bit slowly.” 

“Want some help? I figure we could grab a bite to eat and you can show us what still needs done.” 

The first day on Berserker Island was weird and a bit awkward, but strangely, working together helped break the ice. Soon enough, Tuff and Ruff were bending Bragi’s ear about anything and everything, amazed when he appeared to listen with interest. 

More days passed and the new family gradually became closer. Before long, it was easy to see how happy Madge was with Bragi; who called her his songbird and treated her with the utmost respect.

As spring turned to early summer, plans for Madge and Bragi’s wedding were well underway.

Tuff leaned against Dagur’s back, sewing his wedding gift for both his parents - an embroidered blanket with all kinds of birds worked into the pattern.

Sunbeams bounced off the thin blanket of snow last week’s storm had brought, giving him plenty of light. He took a break regardless, resting the back of his neck against Dagur’s shoulder and listening to the other man breathe. 

He watched Bjorn chase Shattermaster through the snow while Chicken rode in the Gronckle’s saddle, squawking encouragement. The odd entourage disappeared over one of the hills on the island, no doubt rolling over themselves and each other to land in a tangled pile at the bottom. He’d probably have to go rescue and comfort them in a minute.

Dagur turned and wrapped his arms around Tuff’s middle, encouraging him to lay back against him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up so he could kiss him properly.

Tuff honestly had never thought in his life that this much happiness was possible. “Love you,” he sighed, reaching up to stroke the man’s beard.

“Mmm, you too,” Dagur answered, eyes half lidded in contentment.

Across the room, Heather rolled her eyes, also working on her gift for Madge and Bragi. She gave them both a fond look, glad her brother had found happiness. “Obnoxious lovebirds on my island,” she tsked, though in jest. 

Dagur impishly stuck out his tongue at her and leaned down to kiss Tuff yet again.

 

END.


End file.
